


Precipice

by shadowsong26



Series: Precipice Verse [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: AU, AU - the twins are raised differently, Alternate Universe - Anakin doesn't fall, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anakin raises Leia, F/M, Gen, Mass murder and genocide, Multi, Padme raises Luke, as this starts with the Jedi Purge, character and relationship tags will be updated as needed, so there's some of that on-page
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2018-08-22 03:19:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 61
Words: 159,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8270582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowsong26/pseuds/shadowsong26
Summary: An AU in which Anakin Skywalker does not follow Mace Windu and the others to Palpatine’s office after they leave to arrest the Chancellor. As a result, he doesn’t get that final push over the edge, and doesn’t Fall.





	1. Part 1: Aftermath; Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As I have not seen _Rebels_ , some of this contradicts backstory established there. I apologize for that, and hope you’ll forgive said inconsistencies/mistakes. For more details regarding the decisions I made with regard to how the timeline should be altered, see [this post](http://shadowsong26fic.tumblr.com/post/151636774562/precipiceverse-update) on my tumblr.

“Come on, hurry.” Anakin deflected a last handful of blaster bolts before slamming the High Council chamber doors shut behind the little Togruta initiate-- _what’s her name, I should know her name._

He’d had six younglings with him three floors ago. Now it was just him and her, a little seven-year-old with lekku and montrals and markings and giant blue eyes like Ahsoka’s and--

_And I ran_ up _why did I run_ up _I’m smarter than this!_

But it had all happened so fast, and he’d been up here when it started--ever since Master Windu had sent him here to wait, before going to arrest the Chancellor. He’d been thinking, wrestling with himself, trying to decide whether to do what he _should_ be doing, or what he _needed_ to do, and then…

Then the first bomb had gone off, several floors below him, and he’d felt the first wave of deaths. In that moment, it was like waking up from a dream, or a fever. Everything was _clear_ again. He’d looked down and seen himself on the edge of a cliff, poised to dive off, and thought--

_What have I_ done?

_Nothing--yet._

He’d forced himself not to think of it, and given himself up to the simplicity of combat instead. Most of that was a blur, of trying to protect who he could, of trying to find cover (there wasn’t much, not here in the Temple, and why should there have been, except that he’d _needed_ it today), of fighting and retreating.

That would probably explain why he and the little girl had ended up here, come to think of it. This was where he’d come from, after all, so when he was forced to retreat, ‘up’ was the only direction left for him to take.

The two of them would probably be safe here, at least for a little while. The doors were solid; it would take the clones a while to cut through. But there was no way out, except through the army below them, or the windows around them, with a very long drop that he wasn’t sure _he_ could make safely, even at his best. The youngling, even if he carried her, wouldn’t stand a chance.

Still, breathing room was breathing room. He’d think of something.

And then his legs went boneless under him, and he sank into his seat on the edge of the circle, feeling the impact of another handful of deaths. _Five floors down. Mostly clones, but another Padawan went with them._

“Master Skywalker?” the little girl asked him, eyes bright with worry.

He forced a smile and tried to sit up straighter. “It’s okay, we’re safe up here.” _Two more clones down. I should stop counting. Counting isn’t helping._

She nodded. “Okay.”

_And we’re not_ actually _safe yet and--two more initiates--there’s no way out._ Think, _Anakin, come on, how are you getting out of here?_

He had to call for help. He could call--no, he couldn’t bring Padme and the baby into this hell, and Obi-Wan was systems and systems away in Utapau, and something must have gone wrong with Master Windu and the others-- _I was supposed to be the Chosen One, why didn’t I_ see _it, see what the Chancellor was, I should have_ seen _it and there goes another clone--_ so who did that leave?

_Senator Organa. Maybe. Yeah. I guess. He’s probably my best shot--two more Padawans, down in the dining hall--I know Padme trusts him, and he’s on Coruscant._

He smiled again at the little girl, trying to project a calm and confidence he almost felt. Her face was swimming a little in front of him. _How many hits did I take on the way up here? Four? And then there was the shrapnel when that one wall got--there goes another initiate, I think that one was less than five years old…_

He shook the thought off as best he could, and started digging in his pocket for his comlink. “I’m gonna call for help. We’ll get out of here.”

Her eyes full of trust, she nodded again, then bit her lip.

“Don’t worry,” he tried to assure her. _There it is,_ finally. _And there go another half-dozen kids._

He pushed the button to activate the comlink, and it stuck. The whole thing was gummy with blood-- _mine? It’s probably mine, but I can’t tell, and another clone just died_ \--and had shorted out. He swore under his breath, the comlink dropping from suddenly nerveless fingers, hitting the floor with a faint _click_ and rolling away from him.

“Master Skywalker?” she asked, more subdued this time.

“I’ll figure something out. _We’ll_ figure something out,” he said, as much to convince himself as her. “We’re Jedi, right? We can get out of this.”

He could hear booted footsteps in the hall outside.

“They’re coming,” she whispered.

“Stay low,” he ordered her. “Try to get behind one of the chairs.” He stood up and reactivated his lightsaber, and his head spun for a second.

“Master Skywalker?”

“Get down!”

He heard the shot just as she started to move. He dove for her, but slipped--the floor was slick below him, and he couldn’t tell why--and she fell, her eyes and mouth a trio of surprised circles, a fourth smoldering in her chest.

_Another initiate down._

He knew, in that moment, that he’d outrun death as far as he could. He knew he was going to die up here. He would never get the chance to make up for his failures with the Chancellor, never see Obi-Wan again, never see Padme--never meet his child.

For a moment, the loss was almost unbearable. But he was a Jedi, still, and Jedi did not give in to despair.

_There is no death, there is the Force._

He was going to die here. There was no way to prevent that now. But he’d be damned if he didn’t take as many of the kriffing clones outside with him as he could.

_Look on the bright side--maybe this is enough to change it--to change what I saw. Maybe if_ I _die,_ she _doesn’t have to._

There was no way of knowing that, not for certain; no way of knowing that this wasn’t just the first step down the road to what he’d seen. But he would cling to that hope for as long as he lived. Hope was powerful, after all. It just might buy him a few more seconds of fighting back.

He took a deep breath, centered himself, and waited.

_There is no death, there is the Force._

But when the door finally burst all the way open, everything changed. Because he _recognized_ the clone in command.

“ _Rex_ ,” he whispered, the fight abruptly going out of him, replaced by pain, so much pain. “Rex, no--”

The clones lined up across the chamber from him, textbook formation, a half-dozen blasters now staring Anakin in the face.

He backed a few steps away, keeping his lightsaber between them and him. “Rex, come on, Rex, it’s _me,_ you _know_ me. You have to stop this, I _know_ you can stop this. You’re better than this, how much have we been through together? How many times have we fought side by side? You can stop this, Rex, come on. Rex, _look_ at me. Rex--”

Rex didn’t answer.

For a split second, everyone was still, and Anakin thought maybe--just maybe--he’d gotten through to him.

But then Rex moved his hand, silently giving the order to fire.

Two, three, five more hits; Anakin was good, but he kept _slipping_ in what he realized, too late, was blood, _his_ blood; there were too many of them and he was already badly wounded.

“Rex, _please!_ ”

His back hit the window. There was nowhere else to run. At this point, the only thing keeping him moving was years of training and muscle memory; the only thing keeping him _upright_ was the solid transparisteel behind him.

And then one of the clones placed his shot badly, and the window behind Anakin shattered.

Before he could even process what had happened, he was falling.

Instinct took over.

He scrambled for purchase on the sill, missed; the walls below it were too smooth for even his cybernetic hand to dig in.

Below him, dimly, so dimly, he felt--a friendly mind, a _familiar_ mind, a _speeder._

He reached out for the vehicle through the Force, and _yanked_ it into position to catch him just before he lost consciousness completely.

He never even felt the impact.


	2. Part 1, Chapter 2

Bail Organa’s hands were not shaking.

He might have been proud of himself for that, for his composure, for his self-control, if he hadn’t known damn well the only reason they _weren’t_ was because he was gripping his steering column too tight to allow for it.

His heart hammering in his throat, he peeled away from the smoking Temple, trying to forget the image of that boy, that boy cut down in front of him, by _GAR soldiers,_ by the clones they had all trusted for so long.

It didn’t work. The boy and his lightsaber danced in front of his eyes, darting in and out of traffic.

Bail had come to the Temple expecting the worst; or what he’d _thought,_ until just moments ago, was the worst--another bombing, like the one that Padawan had orchestrated, months ago. Obviously, this attack was bigger. He’d known that going in. The smoke on the horizon, visible from his apartment building, had told him as much. But he’d been on battlefields before, and he’d seen bodies. He had done his best to prepare himself for the destruction. He had prepared himself to help, if he could--even though he’d figured it was far more likely he’d be told to stay out of the way.

But if he _hadn’t_ gone…

Less than an hour ago, Bail had gotten a frantic call from Padme’s protocol droid, begging him to come talk sense into her. Their apartments were close, and he’d managed to catch her just as she was heading out the door. She’d been wild, terrified; but she’d had that steely _I’m-doing-this-no-matter-what-Bail-don’t-argue_ look in her eyes.

“I’m going to the Temple,” she had said flatly, daring him to challenge her.

He’d looked over at it, through the windows in the corridor, belching smoke into the sky. “You can’t.”

“I _have_ to.”

“You don’t know what’s going on, if it’s--”

“Of _course_ I don’t!” she’d snapped, her voice cracking. “That’s why I have to--Bail, I have to _know_ what’s…if…”

He had understood, more than perhaps she’d realized. Ever since he’d heard that first distant _boom,_ ever since he’d first seen the smoke out his own windows, he’d been trying his damnedest not to think too hard about his own friends in the Order, or the _children,_ or…

“You can’t,” he’d said quietly, keeping his fears at bay as best he could. He had to focus on the immediate problem, and calm her down, keep her from getting _herself_ killed. The rest could wait. “It’s not safe. We don’t know who’s behind this attack, or why.”

“I don’t care,” she had said. “I don’t _care._ ” She had tried to push past him then, but he’d caught her arm.

“What about your child?” he’d asked.

That had been the first time either of them--or any of their other friends, so far as Bail knew--had acknowledged the open secret aloud. It was a low blow, and he’d known it; but if that was what it took to get Padme to see _sense..._

And, sure enough, she’d frozen for a second. “My…my child,” she’d whispered, and slumped against him, all the fight going out of her in a rush.

He had caught her and guided her back into the apartment and over to the couch as gently as he could before signaling C-3PO to get her some water.

“Are you all right?” he’d asked.

“No,” she had said, numbly. “How can anyone be _all right,_ when--” She’d looked out at the horizon again, her voice trailing off as she’d started to shake.

Bail had stood up and started to black out the windows. _If she can’t see it, maybe she’ll calm down._

“Don’t,” she’d said. “Please?” She’d accepted the water from Threepio, but just sat there, toying with the glass. “I can’t…I need to…if I’m n-not there, if I’m not at least _watching,_ if he’s--” She’d cut herself off abruptly and looked down at her hands, drawing in a deep, shaky breath.

He’d known that they were entering into dangerous waters then, dancing around secrets that Bail had half-guessed, but _did not_ want to know. But she and--well, they had never really been _subtle,_ though he imagined they’d thought so. In truth, Bail was fairly certain that almost _everyone_ who knew them had known how they felt each other.

But there were rules, and Bail--and, most likely, everyone else--had assumed they’d followed them, and kept their distance. And he had been sure, after realizing she was pregnant, that she’d finally put it behind her. Moved on. Found someone _available._

He’d tried not to think too hard about the alternative. It was her business. And he didn’t want to know.

So all he’d said was, “All right,” and he’d left the windows as they were before joining her on the couch again.

She’d fidgeted silently for a minute, then shook her head again. “I can’t…I can’t just _sit_ here, Bail. I have to know what…please.”

“I’ll go,” he’d said, even though he hadn’t really been planning on it. Even though it was the last damned thing he’d wanted to do--because he’d have been in the way; because, as used to battlefields as he was, this one would be something else entirely. He’d _known_ that, even before knowing just how different this one would turn out to be.

But if the alternative was letting Padme, who, for all her diplomatic skill, was endlessly stubborn and almost as reckless as--if the alternative was letting _her_ run into that mess, in _this_ mood, he would do it. He _had_ to do it. “If you promise me that you’ll _stay here_ until I call you, I’ll go and see what happened. Please, Padme?”

She’d stared up at him for a long moment, her eyes glittering, then nodded. “I will. I promise.”

He had stood up and let himself out of her apartment, making his way for the garage and his speeder as quickly as he could.

And all of that--a favor to a dear friend, and the need to protect her, especially with the likely loss of so many others as plain as the smoke on the horizon--had led him here, to grim lies about a rebellion, a boy dead on the Temple steps, and the sickening knowledge that someone, somewhere, had betrayed them all.

And his own friends? He still had no idea--but not all of them were stationed on Coruscant. Maybe the ones who were still out on the front, at least, were all right. Bail tried to take comfort in that thought, irrational as it would have been on any other day. He decided to look into that possibility first. He would find out if there were--if this had happened everywhere, and _then_ call Padme when he had more information. He didn’t want to frighten her more with nothing but guesswork and a brave, dying boy who--

Without warning, the steering column jerked under his hands, as his speeder developed a mind of its own. Bail yelped and fought for control--losing--as the speeder plunged through traffic, back to the burning Temple.

_No, no, no, I want to get_ away _from that place, what the kriffing_ hell--

With a wet _thunk,_ a bloody, slightly charred body landed sprawled approximately in his passenger seat. One hand, still clinging tight to a deactivated lightsaber hilt, slammed into Bail’s face, and he saw stars for a second.

And then his speeder stopped ignoring him and his brain caught up.

_A survivor--this is a survivor!_

Only one, but one was a damn sight better than none. He would take what he could get.

He yanked on the Jedi’s blood-soaked robes--Skywalker, it was Skywalker; Bail recognized the bulking glove on his prosthetic; he’d etched distinctive carvings into the buckles--to make sure he was fully in the speeder, then headed off into traffic again.

_Don’t speed, you can’t afford to get pulled over right now._

He spared a glance over at his passenger, and immediately looked away again, swallowing hard. He wasn’t any kind of medical expert, but he didn’t need much more than that glance--and the wet, ragged sound of the Jedi just barely breathing--to know Skywalker’s condition was critical. He had survived the attack itself, by some miracle, but if Bail didn’t act _quickly..._

_All right. New plan. Get him off-planet, to an underground medcenter just in case, then try to contact the other Jedi,_ any _other Jedi, and find out what--if what happened here was an anomaly. Please,_ please, _let it have been an anomaly._

All thoughts of Padme and her half-guessed secrets now buried deep under the urgency of the situation and Skywalker’s dire injuries, Bail made his way as fast as he legally could to the spaceport.


	3. Part 1, Chapter 3

_“It appears this ambush has happened everywhere.”_

Senator Organa’s words had been tumbling back and forth through Obi-Wan’s mind since they’d first made contact, about a half hour before. They had played on a loop as he made the quick jump to the coordinates the Senator had fed him, and were continuing to do so as he docked with the _Tantive IV._

It was a good thing, the portion of his mind that had somehow remained rational through the fog of shock noted, that he had completed procedures like this one often enough that he could have done this in his sleep. He might as well have been asleep.

_“It appears this ambush has happened everywhere.”_

The implications were too--too terrible to contemplate.

_It can’t be,_ he told himself. _It_ can’t _be. Master Yoda and I can’t be the only ones. If_ I _survived, then surely--surely Master Windu, or Master Fisto, or Master Plo, or…_

He couldn’t tell. That was the worst of it, in some ways. If there could be a ‘worst’ part of this. The Force was raw and wounded, screaming around him. It was all but impossible to pick out individual voices in the chaos around him.

_There is no chaos, there is harmony._

He found precious little of that, no matter how he reached for it. And he knew his current state--this numb fog of shock--wouldn’t last forever. But, at least for now, it was cushioning the blow; keeping him moving, keeping him functioning. It would do, until he had a chance to breathe.

A green light flared on his console; he was secure in the docking bay, with enough air and pressure to leave his ship safely.

He closed his eyes and let out a long slow breath. _Focus. You can do this. There is no emotion, there is peace._

As composed as he was likely to get for the time being, Obi-Wan pushed open the canopy and climbed out of his borrowed ship.

Senator Organa was waiting for him. He seemed tired, strained; but, apart from a truly impressive black eye, unharmed.

“Thank you, Senator,” he said, trying to contain a universe in those words.

Organa half-bowed in acknowledgement. “Are you injured?”

He shook his head. “No, I--I got away clean.” The word felt wrong as soon as he said it, but he let it pass without correcting himself. “What about you?” He knew he was asking as much as a deflection as out of genuine concern for his friend. And hiding from his own problems in someone else’s wasn’t the right way to handle things, but he didn’t have the luxury to do otherwise right now.

_When did doing things properly become a luxury?_ he wondered, dimly, then moved on. Later, later, he would answer those questions later.

Organa reached up and touched his face lightly, with a faint wince. “It looks worse than it is,” he said. “When General Skywalker crashed into me at the Temple, he--”

“Anakin--Anakin is alive?” Obi-Wan interrupted, all other relevant details briefly washed away under an onslaught of giddy--and somewhat guilty--relief.

_Attachment,_ he thought, trying to suppress the edge of faintly-hysterical laughter that came with it. _I’m as bad as he is._

Still, that one hint of good news--as small as it was, compared to the darkness surrounding them--was enough to help him center himself. _There is no chaos, there is harmony._

And then he caught the look on the Senator’s face. “What happened?” he prompted, as calmly and as gently as he could.

“I saw…” Organa drew in a deep breath. “I saw _thousands_ of troops attack the Temple.”

The words hit Obi-Wan like stones, and he struggled to hold on to what little composure he’d managed to regain. _The Temple--they even attacked the_ Temple? “Are there...how many other Jedi managed to survive?”

He shook his head. “Skywalker was the only one who...I was taking him to Polis Massa when--”

“I-I’m sorry, where?”

“A medical facility,” Organa said. “Associated with an archeological research project my mother’s family invested in. Almost no one knows of my connection, and no one’s paid much attention to it in the past decade or so, but the facility is still operational.”

Which meant the equipment would likely be correspondingly out of date, but, on the other hand…

“So whoever--whoever is behind this--” _the Sith Lord, of course, but we still don’t know who that_ is “--won’t think to look there.”

“That’s the idea.”

_And, right now, I think secrecy and safety win out over all other concerns._ He nodded. “So, you were headed there, and…?”

“That’s when we picked up Master Yoda’s distress call, and then yours,” he continued.

“But you haven’t heard from anyone else?” Obi-Wan asked quietly, though a part of him already knew the answer. The Senator had said as much obliquely, but until he heard it straight out, it wouldn’t be _real._ And, until it was real, he couldn’t process it and find a way to move on.

“No.”

And Anakin was the only one who had made it out of the Temple.

_There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony. There is no death, there is the Force._

The Code felt like meaningless platitudes, in the face of all of that.

“How badly is he injured?” Anakin’s absence was telling, and Senator Organa hadn’t mentioned him _arguing_ about being taken to a medcenter, which was even more alarming.

And, worst of all, Obi-Wan couldn’t even sense his apprentice, not really. He _should_ have been able to, quite clearly, now that he was this close; even with everything else echoing through the Force. Their bond remained tight enough for that.

But all he got was the barest flicker, all but swallowed up in the maelstrom surrounding them.

_There is no chaos, there is harmony._

Senator Organa’s face went grim, only confirming what Obi-Wan had already guessed. “I don’t have much on board,” he said quietly. “I haven’t ever--even with the War, I haven’t ever needed more than a basic medical droid. We’ve been doing what we can to stabilize him, but…” He shook his head. “He’s still breathing. Master Yoda is with him now.”

All right. Somewhat worse than Obi-Wan had already guessed. _There is no emotion, there is peace._ “Which way?”

“Follow me.”

Obi-Wan didn’t need to be told twice. He followed the Senator through the ship, to the ship’s basic medbay. Despite the _Tantive_ ’s considerably larger size, the medbay was no bigger than the one on the _Twilight,_ and substantially less well-equipped.

_Which is only logical,_ he reminded himself. _This is a Senator’s private vessel, used for diplomatic and mercy missions. The_ Twilight _was, for all intents and purposes, a military ship. Even Anakin hasn’t ever been foolish enough to--_

_There is no emotion, there is peace._

The ship’s single medical droid was beeping--not quite anxiously, though Obi-Wan almost wanted to attach the word to it. Master Yoda was perched on a chair on the other side of the bay’s single table, humming thoughtfully to himself, mind opaque.

And on the table--

_Oh, Anakin…_

He was so _still_ ; that was the first thing Obi-Wan noticed; and Anakin was _never_ still. His hair was matted with sweat and blood; a gash went along his chin, coming perilously close to his throat; another crossed his right shoulder, disappearing under a chestplate that seemed to be holding his ribs in place. A small pile of extracted stone and transparisteel fragments, some of them disconcertingly large, had been gathered on top of his tattered, bloody robes, which had been cut off to allow the droid easier access for treatment. There were at least four distinct blaster burns that Obi-Wan could see, none of which would likely be fatal on their own, but compounding each other were cause for grave concern. His flesh arm was strapped to a splint; the mechanical one seemed undamaged. He was chalk-white, near colorless, despite an empty bag indicating he’d been given at least one transfusion; his breathing was shallow and unsteady; Obi-Wan had barely taken a cursory look at _half_ his Padawan’s body and already--

“Master Kenobi.”

The faint hint of reproof in Master Yoda’s voice called him back to himself.

_There is no emotion, there is peace._

“Master Yoda,” he said, with an abbreviated bow.

Master Yoda eyed him for a minute, then sighed. “Stubborn, he is, the boy you trained--but nearly gone.”

Obi-Wan swallowed, and looked away. He knew what the Grandmaster was saying. This wasn’t--yet--an instruction to give up hope, to let his friend go; merely a warning to prepare himself. If they didn’t get to Polis Massa in time, or if the center there was inadequate…

_There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no death, there is the Force._

“I understand, Master.”

“A moment with your Padawan, take,” he said, not unkindly, as he jumped down off the chair. “Then decide, we must, how to proceed.”

“Yes, Master,” he said, bowing distractedly as Master Yoda collected his gimmer stick and stepped past him, leaving with Senator Organa.

_There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no death, there is the Force._

Obi-Wan sank into the chair, resting a hand as gently as he could on Anakin’s and closing his eyes. “I’m here,” he whispered, drawing on the bond they still shared to send what strength he could; to at least dampen his friend’s pain a little. He doubted it was doing much good--it was a feeble enough effort, as healing had never been his strong suit--but he had to try. “I’m here.”

_There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no death, there is the Force._

The hand under his twitched, just a little, and the droid let out a startled beep.

_...what? No, am I--is he--can this be possible?_

Obi-Wan opened his eyes, hardly daring to hope, and, sure enough, Anakin was awake, and _looking_ at him; his eyes were cloudy with pain and not altogether focused, but he was _awake._ “M-master…?” he croaked, uncertainly.

“Shh, shh, easy,” Obi-Wan said, ruthlessly suppressing the urge to cling tighter and risk hurting him worse. “It’s all right, Anakin, you’re safe now, Senator Organa got you off Coruscant, we’re--”

“Palpatine,” Anakin interrupted.

“What?”

“Sith Lord,” he said.

The information wasn’t--wasn’t exactly a surprise. It was _unexpected,_ yes, but once the words were out there…

_With everything that’s happened today, who_ else _could it have been?_

Or so the small corner of Obi-Wan’s brain that remained rational said.

The _rest_ of him was consumed by a white-hot burst of raw _feeling,_ the likes of which he hadn’t experienced since Maul had cut Qui-Gon down in front of him. Anakin had _trusted_ Palpatine, he had for _years_ ; what the man must have been _doing_ to him--

_I left you alone with him, I allowed this to--_

_There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony._

He took a breath and let it out. “We’ll handle him,” he promised Anakin quietly. “Don’t wo--what on earth are you _doing?_ ”

Anakin was struggling to sit up. The droid started beeping frantically, sorting through its vials, probably seeking a sedative.

“Have--have to--” He went, if possible, even paler.

_Oh, for the love of--you can’t_ possibly _intend to go after him_ yourself, _not right now!_

“Anakin, _stop,_ ” Obi-Wan said, as firmly as he could. He would have shoved him back down into place, but restrained himself in an effort to avoid accidentally aggravating his injuries. He was doing enough of that on his own. “Anakin, you’re--if you go now, he _will_ kill you.”

He could feel Anakin’s thoughts, echoing around them-- _I_ have _to stop him, this was my fault, I was supposed to be the Chosen One, I was--_

“No, Anakin--listen to me, this isn’t your fault. It isn’t, I swear it. And we _will_ fix this, trust me on that, but with--with everyone else--if you go back, he will kill you. He will _kill you,_ and we can’t afford to lose you, there are...there are so few of us left right now, and we _need_ you, Anakin, _I_ need you.”

Obi-Wan wasn’t sure if it was Anakin’s current physical limitations catching up with him, or simply the pain; or if he had, for once, actually gotten through his apprentice’s thick skull, but Anakin at last sank back, eyes closed.

“Now, let’s have no more of that,” he said. “ _Please._ ”

Anakin didn’t answer, just let out a slow breath. But he stayed down, at least. _Progress. I’ll take it._

“We will deal with Palpatine, I promise,” Obi-Wan said. “And then…” _We’ll rebuild. Somehow._

The droid had finally found its sedative, and was approaching with a needle.

_Probably for the best,_ he thought. _Or he’ll just try to get up again as soon as I walk away._

“Rest now,” he said, squeezing Anakin’s hand as gently as he could. “All right?”

Anakin’s eyes flickered open again, and he tried to wave the droid off.

“ _Ana_ kin--”

“Master,” he whispered, and there was a different sort of urgency to it now. “Master, I...h-have to...have to tell you…”

“It can wait.”

He shook his head, and hissed a little at the pain as the gash on his chin split open again. “M-master, I...P-Padme and I…”

_Oh._

On any other day, it might have mattered. But in the face of everything else that had happened, Obi-Wan couldn’t quite bring himself to care about his friend’s violation of the Code.

“Shh, it’s all right. I know,” he said instead, as soothingly as he could.

Anakin blinked. “Wh-what…?”

“I have for a long time,” he admitted. _Well, not for_ sure, _not until just now, but only because I was_ very careful _to avoid knowing for sure. You two really aren’t anywhere_ near _as discreet as you think you are, you know._

“Why…?”

There were at least a dozen answers he could have given, all of them true to an extent.

_Technically, I only suspected the truth. I had no evidence you’d actually_ acted _on your feelings, and I didn’t want to ruin both your lives without actual proof._

_I was waiting you to come to me. I wanted you to trust me with this._

_She made you happy, and you’ve had so much pain in your life. How could I possibly take that away?_

_You seemed to make her happy, and she deserves that, too._

_I’ve been where you were, and perhaps a part of me was living vicariously through the choice you made, the one I couldn’t._

_If I had told anyone, they would have expelled you from the Jedi Order. I would have_ lost _you._

But the droid was beeping indignantly now, finally in position to sedate Anakin, so Obi-Wan went with the simplest answer, to be sure he heard it before he slept.

“You’re my brother, Anakin,” he said quietly. “I love you.”

Anakin’s eyes widened just a hair, then started to drop as the drug kicked in.

“ _Rest,_ little brother,” he said. “Heal. We can sort everything else out later.”

He went limp, safely drugged past arguing now. _Hopefully, he’ll_ stay _that way._

“General Kenobi?”

He jumped a little, and turned to face Senator Organa. _I wonder how much of that he overheard…_

“We’re about to drop out of hyperspace,” he said.

Polis Massa, at last. Anakin had made it this far. Obi-Wan felt himself relaxing a little at the thought.

“All right. Thank you.”

“And...we’ve received a coded retreat message,” Organa added quietly. “It requests all Jedi return to the Temple. It says the war is over.”

Part of Obi-Wan, the part still a little drunk on the euphoria of Anakin, alive; Anakin, conscious; Anakin, _lucid_ ; wanted to believe that that meant more survivors.

But the rational part of him knew better.

“A trap.”

The Senator nodded. “Master Yoda said the same.”

Which meant his moment was over, and they needed to plan their next move. “Of course.” He stood up, gently setting Anakin’s hand down, then paused.

_If I tell him, and he doesn’t already know--no, it doesn’t matter anymore._

“...when we get back to Coruscant, if you...if you happen to speak to Senator Amidala…”

He trailed off. _What do I say? The smart move would probably be to let_ everyone, _including Padme, think that Anakin is dead, in case--in case we can’t bring Palpatine down on the first try. That would be safer, I think. For both of them. For all of us._

But that would also be incalculably cruel. And Anakin would likely never forgive him.

Senator Organa’s eyes flickered over to where Anakin lay, and he nodded slowly. _He_ does _know. That simplifies matters._ “I won’t compromise his safety.”

It was probably better that way; better to leave the decision in someone else’s hands. Obi-Wan was, he realized, quite thoroughly compromised on the subject. His judgment could not be trusted.

“Thank you,” he said.

Organa smiled at him briefly, then led the way to the ship’s conference room, where Master Yoda was waiting for them.

Things felt different than they had just an hour before, though not much had really changed. The world had still ended, and the Force was still raw and screaming, and a Sith Lord still had total control of the Republic. But--Anakin was _alive,_ and as long as that were so…

_There is no emotion, there is peace._

It wasn’t the right way to go about things, and Obi-Wan was more than aware of that. But as long as Anakin was alive, despite the maelstrom of death and darkness that had descended on them all, he found it in him to hope.


	4. Part 1, Chapter 4

Padme had been in public service for over a decade and a half, and it took every single drop of skill and experience gained from every single moment of every single one of those years to keep her composure, or at least a decent facade. Despite her best efforts, though, that was pretty much _all_ she was accomplishing at the moment. She knew she wasn’t paying nearly as much attention to Palpatine’s speech as she should have been. She was noting down what few key phrases did penetrate, at least. And, of course, she was recording everything, to analyze later. Hopefully, by the time she sat down and went through it all, she would have stopped _reacting_ and would be able to _think_ again.

_I trusted you,_ she thought, numbly. _Not so long ago. You were my_ friend, _my advisor...I_ trusted _you. I put you in power. I_ ruined _Valorum, on your advice. I didn’t suspect you until it was already too late._

It all seemed so obvious now, in hindsight. Little things, starting from that moment in his office when he’d first suggested that kriffing no-confidence vote; little things that had led to... _this._ How could she--how could _any_ of them--have been so blind?

True, she (and others) had recently become concerned about some of his maneuvers, especially in the last few months of the War. But she doubted _any_ of them had realized exactly how far Sheev Palpatine was willing--let alone _planning_ \--to go to maintain his power. She knew she hadn’t. And Anakin had--

She closed her eyes briefly. She could not afford to think about Anakin right now.

“The Jedi hoped to unleash their destructive power against the Republic by assassinating the head of government and usurping control…”

_That,_ Padme knew, had to be a lie. Whatever differences the Order had had with the Senate in general and Palpatine in particular, she knew they wouldn’t have launched a full-scale _coup_. True, the recording of Master Windu attacking the Chancellor was damning, but--

_But it’s only a partial recording. Incomplete, due to damage to the surveillance cameras sustained during the attack. Supposedly. Ha. Who knows what’s on the parts Palpatine_ won’t _show us? If Master Windu did something_ that _drastic, I’m sure he had a good reason._

And now they would never know what that reason was. But it had been the excuse Palpatine had used to--

She clung a little tighter to the arms of her chair, focusing on keeping her face at just the right level of impassivity. She found herself missing the makeup she’d worn as Queen, heavy and annoying as it had been to wear all day, every day. It had been _so_ much easier to keep her thoughts off her face with that mask to help.

On the other hand, makeup or no makeup, she might not have been having so much trouble keeping it together if she’d known what the hell had _actually_ happened in the Temple the night before. And, yes, it was stupid and petty and selfish of her to focus on--on the people she loved, to fret herself to pieces over what had happened to a handful of individuals, all while a man she had admired and trusted until all too recently was methodically destroying everything right and good in the galaxy right in front of her. All while there were _so many_ dead. Even if she couldn’t trust the reported numbers, she knew hers were just a handful of drops in an ocean.

But all Padme could think about was how _no one_ had contacted her. She’d tried reaching out--to Anakin, to Bail, to Obi-Wan, everyone she could think of. She’d even tried tracking down contact details for Ahsoka, in case they’d gone to ground and sought help from her--she wasn’t a Jedi anymore, after all; she should have been safe.

No response, from anyone.

_He would have called. If he was--he would have_ called. _So that must mean…_

She blinked back tears again, angrily this time. She’d done more than enough crying last night; her head still ached from it. She had to do better than this. Too much was happening, and she couldn’t afford to miss any of it.

She took a deep breath and tried to force her full attention back to the speech. If she could just focus on the bigger problems, maybe she’d be steadier. Find the professional distance she needed to survive this. Besides, she had a _duty_ here, as a reasonable, halfway-decent sentient being, let alone a Senator.

“Our loyal clone troopers contained the insurrection--”

No such luck. Palpatine’s words just washed over her.

Padme _knew_ she was failing in that duty, she knew this was important; she knew they--she and the others who had signed the Petition of Two Thousand, and their more discreet allies--would need to move quickly and decisively to try and fix this. And to do that, they’d need all the knowledge and perspective they could get, as soon as they could get it.

But, despite her best efforts, all she could think about was Anakin, her Anakin; who had been falling apart at the seams for lately. He hadn’t been sleeping, and she knew some of that was the dreams ( _dreams about me, did I do this to you, why couldn’t I comfort you enough, why couldn’t I_ help _you_ ), some of that was the stress of being put between the Chancellor and the Council ( _which was a_ terrible _idea, why couldn’t they_ see _that using him like that,_ especially _when he was already off-balance, was a terrible idea_ ) and maybe some of it was some level of--maybe he’d sensed some kind of disaster coming, if not the specifics ( _at least I know he wouldn’t ever have agreed to_ this, _not my Ani_ ).

And then he’d been in the Temple when--

_He’s good. He’s strong and he’s skilled and he’s the_ best _at what he does. If_ anyone _could have survived that--_

But Anakin hadn’t been _sleeping._ He’d been unsteady, on edge, more volatile than usual. The state he’d worked himself into...she’d been worried about him even before the attack. Obi-Wan had been, too. ( _And what about Obi-Wan? Is he alive? Dead? Lying injured and alone somewhere?_ ) And, officially, while there were presumed survivors scattered about the galaxy on missions, no Jedi had escaped the Temple alive.

_Of course,_ she kept telling herself (because otherwise, no matter how hard she tried, she _would_ start crying again), _‘official’ reports aren’t always completely accurate. And that was true even last week, before all of_ this _happened. Who the hell knows today?_

No word on Anakin, or Obi-Wan, or any of the other Jedi she knew and cared for, and that was bad enough. But Bail was also a constant ghost in her thoughts--she’d let Bail talk her out of going to the Temple herself, and now Alderaan’s box across the chamber sat empty, a mute reproach.

She didn’t have any idea where _he_ was, either.

Padme wanted to bury her face in her hands, but she couldn’t afford to let any of her distress show. And she may have been spiraling out of control internally, but she still had at least _that_ much presence of mind. She settled for leaning forward as best she could and resting her chin on her fist, trying to swallow back her guilt. Bail Organa had a wife, they were trying to have a child, and the only reason he’d _been_ at the Temple was because he’d wanted to protect her. If he had--if anything had happened to him, that was on her. _I’m so sorry, my friend. I shouldn’t have listened to you. I shouldn’t have let you walk into that hell. I’m so, so sorry._

There was movement behind her in her box. She ignored it; the combination of her private misery and the horror unfolding before her left no room for anything else. Motee and Typho would handle it, if it was a problem.

“...and the Jedi rebellion has been foiled…”

“What’s happened?”

She let out a startled breath and turned. _Bail!_

He was alive. He was _alive,_ and she was so relieved she could have strangled him.

_Why didn’t you call me you promised you would call me tell me what’s going on tell me if he’s alive please I need him to be alive--_

A decade and a half in politics kept it all off her face, but her voice shook a little as she answered. “The Chancellor’s been elaborating on a plot by the Jedi to overthrow the Senate.”

He twitched a little, but nodded as he took a seat beside her. He was much better at maintaining his surface calm than she was; she doubted anyone except her, and maybe Motee and Typho, could tell how disgusted he was by the lie.

There was a fresh bruise on his face, she realized, getting a better look at her friend--he’d tried to cover it up, and done reasonably well; but she could still see it up close. “What about you?” she asked. “Where have you been?” _How could you be late to_ this _session how could you just disappear like that you promised me you’d call why didn’t you call me?_

He shifted a little in his seat, delaying his response by watching Palpatine for a moment.

“The remaining Jedi will be hunted down and defeated.”

“Bail?”

He sighed, and, keeping his eyes on Palpatine, chose his words with obvious care. “I was...delayed. I apologize for not updating you sooner, but my errand...it wasn’t as successful as I hoped it would be.”

Her breath caught in her throat as the universe stuttered to a halt around her.

She thought she’d made peace with it last night, with the fact that Anakin--her Anakin, her husband, the father of her child--was probably dead. As the hours had stretched by with no word, she knew, some part of her knew, that…

But it was one thing to guess, and another thing to _hear_ it, straight out.

_I can’t--oh, Ani, no--_

The baby shifted inside her, the purely physical sensation rooting her back in the present; reminding her of everything that was at stake, everything she still had left to lose.

“The attempt on my life has left me scarred and deformed…”

She took a deep, shaky breath, and tried to focus on Palpatine again. _Act now. Grieve later. Remember who you are. Remember_ where _you are._

At least she knew now. And if it wasn’t--if it was the farthest possible truth from what she’d wanted…

At least she _knew_. At least she was no longer stuck in that horrible limbo of mingled hope and dread.

Bail was watching her out of the corner of his eye, his face composed into a mask of serene attention. “But I was…I was able to retrieve your package.”

_...what?_

Her heart skipped a beat. If she was parsing his on-the-fly verbal code properly…

_That means he_ knows.

_Really?_ she asked herself. _Really, Padme?_ That’s _your takeaway here?_

“So,” she said, and swallowed. “So, not a complete loss, then. Your errand.”

The baby kicked, hard, and she slid a hand surreptitiously under her cloak to try and soothe him-- _her? Your father thinks you’re a girl, little one. Thought? Thinks. Bail said--_

“It was damaged in transit,” he warned her.

_...damaged…?_

The bottom fell out from Padme’s universe again. _Which is it? Is he alive, or is he dead? How bad--what do you mean,_ damaged? _Damn it, if only you’d gotten here sooner, and we’d been able to talk somewhere private!_

She shook her head, trying to derail that train of thought before it got out of hand. _Stop it. That isn’t helping._ “We can...we can talk about this later,” she said. “After the session. My apartment?”

“Of course,” Bail said. “I’m sure we’ll have a great deal to discuss.”

“Yes.” She felt herself flushing a little at the reminder, though she was sure Bail hadn’t meant it that way. _You have a duty here. You can’t do anything more about Anakin right now. At least you know you have real, dependable, first-hand information coming. You’re better off than you were ten minutes ago. But if you don’t find your kriffing self-control…_

She took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and resolutely turned her focus back to Palpatine. With actual answers on the horizon, and confirmation that at least _one_ of the people she’d been so afraid for was alive, it was easier to shelve her personal problems for the moment and devote her full attention to the galaxy’s.

“In order to ensure our security and continuing stability, the Republic will be reorganized into the first Galactic Empire!”

The Senate gallery burst into cheers.

The baby kicked again.

_What kind of world am I bringing you into, little one?_

Part of her wanted to be charitable, on her colleagues’ behalf. Surely, not _all_ of them really meant it.

_Some of them are probably just...afraid,_ she told herself. _They don’t want to draw the mob down on themselves. But how many? And will we be able to convince them to take a stand later?_

Problems for tomorrow. But for today...

“So, this is how liberty dies,” she murmured. “With thunderous applause.”

She felt Bail’s hand on hers, warm and reassuring; steady.

_We will fix this. We will find a way. Whatever--wherever Anakin is now…wherever you are, my love, I promise you that I will_ not _allow this to be the galaxy our child inherits._

“For a safe and secure society.”

_For a free and peaceful tomorrow._


	5. Part 1, Chapter 5

The warren of hallways outside the Senate Rotunda was eerily quiet. Normally, after a session, especially an emergency full session like this one, there would be the constant babble of thousands of languages, as knots of Senators gathered throughout the complex, arguing over what had been said and plotting strategy for their next maneuvers. Today, though, what little conversation Bail noticed was quick and quiet, and on the move. Mindful, too mindful, of the risk of being overheard.

_No one’s even pretending, not out here,_ he thought. _I suppose faking adulation is easier than faking normality, when you’re this afraid._

He and Padme were likewise quiet as they made their way to her apartment. She kept her head down, eyes on the datapad she’d been using to take notes, but that might have been a cover. He thought he saw her exchanging hand signals of some kind with her handmaiden--Motee; he was pretty sure this one was Motee. Sometimes it was hard to tell, under their hoods. He supposed that was part of the point, for them to be more or less interchangeable and fade into the background--at least until their lady was threatened and they needed to spring into action.

For his part, Bail kept his eyes on the other Senators surrounding them, trying to gauge their reactions beyond the general raw fear as discreetly as he could. Even if--even _when_ \--Master Yoda and General Kenobi removed Palpatine from power, the damage he’d done while in office wouldn’t be easy to undo. It would take months, maybe years, of hard work. The more he knew about what they’d have to work with in the Senate when the time came, the easier it would be.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t get much of a read on anyone. Maybe it was too soon, or maybe he was just too tired, too stressed--maybe everyone else was, too. He did spot a few known allies in the crowd, but was careful not to meet their eyes just yet. If...if the worst should happen, if the Jedi were to--if a conspiracy should become necessary, they could _not_ let anyone catch on until they were well-established. Until they were too widespread to wipe out.

Mostly, he was successful, but, as luck would have it, Senator Mothma managed to catch his eye from across the hall. She looked intensely relieved, and started towards him, but he shook his head minutely.

_Not here, not now, not safe yet,_ he thought, and hoped it was clear to her and no one else.

She frowned faintly, but nodded her understanding and continued towards her office without approaching him, joined shortly thereafter by Senator Bel Iblis. Bail allowed himself a faint sigh of relief, and moved on.

By some miracle, he and Padme avoided any further interruptions as they continued down to the garage and her speeder--his was still covered in Skywalker’s blood, so he couldn’t exactly drive it openly at the moment, and he wasn’t sure he ever would again; but for now, it was well-hidden. Padme set the datapad aside, but continued her conversation with Motee, verbally now, rather than starting on the questions Bail knew she was burning to ask him.

The message in her conduct was clear, and almost certainly accurate. _Not here. Not now. Not safe yet._

She was holding up better than he’d thought she would, given how distressed she’d been the last time they’d met. Her eyes were a little red, and she was pale, but composed. He only hoped he was doing half as well.

With that in mind, he took the opportunity, as Typho moved them through traffic-- _out here, if you manage to avoid seeing the ruin of the Temple, it almost feels like everything’s normal again_ \--to make a few calls to his staff, and to leave a message for Breha at home. Things that any eavesdroppers would find innocuous; some might even question why he _didn’t_ check in, since he’d been offplanet on an undisclosed personal matter right before the session.

_Business as usual,_ was the impression he was trying to give. _There are no conspirators here. Certainly no fugitive Jedi under my protection._

He also, with great care, sent a coded message to General Kenobi. Hopefully, he’d figure out what it meant, and he and Master Yoda would know that their planned meeting place had to change. Bail worried about them being exposed, if they went to his apartment as discussed and he wasn’t there to meet them.

Those tasks kept him busy, and their speeder made good time back through the city. Typho let the two Senators and Motee off at Padme’s balcony, then headed off in the direction of the building’s parking garage. Motee went straight into the bedroom in the back; Padme took Bail’s hand and pulled him into the sitting room.

He started to speak--there was so much he needed to tell her--but paused.

_I never noticed how_ open _this room was before,_ he thought. Between the balcony taking up a full third of the outer wall, and the expansive windows taking up most of the rest…

“We can talk freely now,” she said. His reticence must have shown on his face. “I’ve put the best possible anti-surveillance measures in place. I’m... _very_ careful about my privacy in here.” She met his eyes. “I think you’ve guessed why.”

_You would have to be. The scandal would have, if not ruined, at least derailed your career, and what it would do to him..._ He nodded. “I trust you.” _I trust that you_ believe _we’re safe here, in any case._

On the other hand, he had promised Kenobi he’d be careful, and until they knew exactly what surveillance capabilities Palpatine had at his disposal, he couldn’t be entirely certain how secure Padme’s apartment actually was. With that in mind, he decided to hold back certain details--Skywalker’s current location principle among them--as a precaution. He’d play it by ear, depending on what she asked.

She took a deep breath, and started with, “Is he alive, Bail?”

“He was when we left,” he said.

She sank down onto the couch. “But it’s...it’s bad.”

“Yes.” He would be circumspect, but he wasn’t going to lie to her.

“How bad?”

He hesitated, not entirely sure how to phrase his answer. He didn’t want to mislead her, but he wanted to cushion the blow as much as he could; it had been a heavy enough one even _without_ being particularly close to Skywalker. A litany of burns and lacerations of varying severity from blaster bolts and shrapnel; broken arm; shattered ribs; the _blood_ he’d lost… Bail hadn’t had the heart to read the full results of the med droid’s diagnostic scan--though he was fairly sure General Kenobi had gone over it in detail--but he’d seen enough to know the mere fact that they’d gotten Skywalker to Polis Massa still breathing was some kind of miracle.

Clearly, she read enough of that in his face. “Oh,” she said, her voice very small. She blinked rapidly a few times, resting a hand on her stomach and, at least in that moment, did not press for further details. “But he’s...he’s safe now, right?”

“As safe as I could make him,” Bail promised her. “Offplanet, being treated.”

She nodded. “Right.” She paused. “You said...who’s...who’s ‘we’?”

He hesitated half a second--but, on the other hand, Palpatine might already know the two Jedi Masters had survived, if they’d been observed or recorded at the Temple. If he didn’t, he soon would, when they came after him directly. The greater danger was Bail--or Padme--being tied to the two of them. But Padme was a part of this now, she needed the information, and if they let caution cross too far into paranoia, they and their efforts would be crippled by it, rather than protected.

_Compartmentalization can come later,_ he decided. _Besides, I already at least tried to tell Kenobi he’d find me here. It’s a little late for second thoughts on the subject._ “Me, Master Yoda, and General Kenobi.”

It was the right choice, he saw immediately. Padme sat up straighter, something like hope starting to kindle in her eyes. “They survived? Are they all right?”

“Yes, and they’re not hurt,” Bail said. _Though whether or not either of them could be described as ‘all right…’_ Both were Jedi, of course, and Jedi played things close to the vest, but he’d seen little flashes, particularly from Kenobi, of utter devastation behind the mask of serenity. “They’re...they’re the only others I found, though. The two of them and Skywalker.”

“ _Hell,_ ” Padme breathed, deflating a little again. “Wh...where are they now?”

Before he could answer, there was a soft noise on the balcony.

Padme stiffened a little and rose at once, producing a blaster from--

“You keep a gun in your couch?” Bail asked, blinking at the hidden compartment between the cushions as he pulled his own from his boot.

“You _don’t?_ ”

On second thought, knowing Padme, he probably shouldn’t have been surprised.

The door from the balcony pushed open softly and--

“Don’t shoot, it’s us.”

Bail relaxed and lowered his gun. Beside him, Padme did the same. “General Kenobi. I see you got my message.”

“I did, yes.” He came all the way into the room and pulled his hood off, followed close by Master Yoda.

“Obi-Wan,” Padme started, her voice cracking a little bit.

He took half a step back. “Padme.” His eyes spoke volumes; the same look Bail had given Mon in the hallway earlier.

_Not here. Not now. Not safe yet._

She nodded once and sat back down on the couch, deliberately setting her blaster on the table and clenching her hands together. “It’s...I’m relieved to see you. Both of you,” she added, her eyes flickering over to Yoda, who remained inscrutable as always.

“Gratified we are as well, Senator,” the Jedi Master said, after a moment. He climbed up into a chair across from her; Kenobi remained standing behind him.

“I intend to leave the planet,” Padme said, after a moment, glancing up at Obi-Wan again. “Discreetly.”

Kenobi bowed slightly, but said nothing.

“Wise, this may be,” Yoda agreed. Bail found himself wondering exactly how much he’d known--or guessed--about her relationship with Skywalker before now. Neither he nor Kenobi had put what they knew in explicit terms, but they’d likely said enough for him to put the pieces together. Particularly now, with the evidence of Padme’s pregnancy right in front of him.

At any rate, he did not ask where she planned on going. None of them did. Whether they acknowledge it aloud or not, they all knew.

“Palpatine,” Yoda went on, changing the subject and interrupting Bail’s thoughts. “What said he, to the Senate?”

“That you had attempted a coup,” Bail said quietly.

“Of course,” Kenobi muttered. Yoda’s ear twitched.

“I recorded everything,” Padme said, getting up and retrieving her datapad.

“Good,” Yoda said. “Review this, we will.”

She nodded, then hesitated, turning the ’pad over in her hands. “I don’t want...I have no desire to see it again. Not yet. And I have some final arrangements to make with Motee. Please excuse me.” Without waiting for them to respond, she set the datapad on the table next to her blaster, and headed into the back room.

When neither of the others moved, Bail leaned forward and activated the recording. The three of them watched without comment, as Palpatine began his speech and presented the clearly-doctored so-called evidence of the Jedi plot to the Senate.

Bail had missed that part, arriving late. He wondered what the reaction was; if there was any way to tell how many of his colleagues actually swallowed it. He closed his eyes, briefly, ashamed of what the Senate had become under this man.

For nearly a full minute after the recording ended, none of them spoke.

Yoda, at last, broke the silence. “To destroy this Emperor, then, I will go,” he said decisively.

A great deal blunter than Bail had expected him to be, but--well, what other choice did they have at this point? Especially given what Skywalker had told Kenobi. If that were true, if Palpatine was a Sith Lord…

There was a time when even the Jedi had to be ruthlessly pragmatic. Bail was just sorry he had to live in such a time.

_If this works, if we do this right, no one else will ever have to again,_ he reminded himself, ignoring the chill creeping down his spine. _Let us bear this burden, so our children do not have to._

“I’ll go with you,” Kenobi said. A perfectly reasonable decision, so far as Bail was concerned.

But the little green Jedi shook his head. “No. If fail today we do, to the future, you must look.” He very pointedly did _not_ look towards the bedroom, where Padme was still finalizing her arrangements with her staff.

He frowned. “Master, with all respect, there is a time for holding forces in reserve and I do not believe this is it.”

“Hmm. So certain are you,” Yoda said, eyeing Kenobi.

“Yes.” He met his gaze, and for a long moment, they stared at each other.

Bail resisted the urge to fidget, looking up at the ceiling to avoid intruding on…whatever it was they were doing. It felt _wrong,_ to witness this. The Jedi had always--at least in front of outsiders--presented more or less a united front (firebrands and mavericks like General Skywalker aside). This glimpse behind the curtain was something Bail had never wanted to get, and the circumstances made it that much worse.

Whatever it was that passed between the two Jedi, though, it ended with Kenobi backing down. “Very well, Master.”

“Good,” Yoda said. “Senator Organa, retrieve me, you can, from the Senate, if things go wrong?”

“Of course, Master Yoda,” Bail said.

“I will take Senator Amidala to safety,” Kenobi said. If he still wanted to contest his assignment, he had hidden his reaction behind what was _almost_ his usual serenity.

It had been--what, a day and a half, two days, since that first explosion at the Temple? The strain was starting to show, on all of them.

_I wonder if he’s slept at all. I can’t imagine he has. I know I haven’t._

“We’ll need a ship,” Padme said, at last rejoining them from her room. She was now out of her regalia, dressed more practically in soft brown suede, no longer even attempting to disguise her pregnancy. “Mine is far too recognizable. Besides, Motee and Typho will need it.” She smiled faintly, with no joy. “We’ve worked everything out between us. Just in case.”

Kenobi nodded. “I agree. It would be best to take a ship that can’t be tied to any of us.”

Which, given that they had no time to waste, likely meant commandeering one. _Or would he just be outright stealing one, now that the Jedi no longer have any official authority?_

Bail decided he didn’t care about the legal niceties right at that moment.

“Go, then,” Yoda said. “When finished my business with Palpatine is, join you, we will.”

Kenobi nodded again. “May the Force be with you, Master.”

“And you,” Yoda said quietly.

Kenobi bowed politely, pulled his hood back up and, with Padme following, left the rest of them to get into position to take back the Republic.


	6. Part 1, Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a heads up, while it's not particularly graphic (or, at least, I don't think it is?) there is a childbirth scene at the end of this chapter.

Careful to avoid security cameras and police droids, Obi-Wan led Padme down through her apartment building and out through a convenient service exit. There was a shipyard of questionable integrity not too far away. By himself, he could have reached it in about an hour; with Padme, heavily pregnant as she was, it took about twice as long. Still well within an acceptable timeframe, provided he could sneak them past air traffic control.

_It should be Anakin here,_ he thought, not for the first time. Anakin was, after all, the better pilot--and the reason Obi-Wan knew about this particular shipyard in the first place. He had, as with many other things, pretended not to know that Anakin occasionally snuck down to join in an illegal street race after a particularly stressful day. At least one of those races had left from this particular shipyard; Obi-Wan knew this because he had, once or twice, discreetly followed his apprentice down to the underlevels, to make sure his choices, while questionable, were not _actively_ harmful to himself or anyone else. Still, while Obi-Wan at least knew where he was going and what he was looking for, Anakin would have known the ships and the area much better, enabling a faster selection and cleaner escape.

But Anakin was-- _still alive, he’s still alive_ \--in critical condition on the other side of the galaxy. Obi-Wan’s more limited knowledge and abilities would have to suffice.

_There is no ignorance, there is knowledge._

The shipyard was, as he had hoped, all but deserted when he and Padme arrived. They skulked around its edges for a while, to confirm that fact and look for a way in. There was only a single, bored-looking Duros on guard duty. _We can probably avoid him, at least until we’re actually on whatever ship we take,_ he thought. He _could_ mind trick the guard if necessary, of course, but if he didn’t time it right, he might be spotted before he gained control of the situation. Better to avoid a confrontation that might last too long, that might draw witnesses, if at all possible.

Padme nudged his shoulder, pointing at an approximately waist-high hole in the fence. He nodded, eyeing it and stretching out with the Force to detect any signs of a trap. It was conveniently out of the guard’s view; all too easy.

But he detected nothing untoward. Whatever had made that hole wasn’t a threat to the two of them.

On the other hand…

_Perhaps not so easy after all._ It was highly unlikely Padme would be able to duck or crawl through, which meant the hole would need to be expanded. Easy enough, with his lightsaber--unless the distinctive hum and light caught someone’s attention--the guard’s or even just someone walking by.

“Do you have a knife?” he asked her quietly.

She blinked, then nodded, comprehending. “Yeah. Right boot, I can’t bend that far.”

He crouched down; the blade was right where she said it would be. He removed it with care. “Keep an eye out.”

She nodded again, and stepped back into the shadows as he ghosted towards the fence, hoping the knife was strong and sharp enough to suit their purposes.

It took thirty seconds of quiet sawing, and drew a few sparks that set his teeth on edge, but he managed to cut a hole tall enough for Padme to get through safely without getting caught.

He signaled Padme, stepped aside to allow her room, then ducked through the hole after her, taking in the closest few ships at a glance.

“That one,” he said, pointing to a small freighter that didn’t look too heavily modified. It would be easier to hotwire if it wasn’t particularly idiosyncratic.

She nodded, and started towards it.

He followed her, keeping a wary eye out and one hand on the hilt of his lightsaber. The Duros at the gate remained oblivious to their presence, but there was still whoever had cut through the fence before them. And, while he still didn’t sense any active threat when he considered it, the question of who or what he might be dealing with left him uneasy.

But that question was, as they arrived at the ship, unexpectedly answered.

_Beep!_

Padme stopped short. “Artoo?” she hissed.

The little droid wheeled out from under the shadow of the ship Obi-Wan had selected, and beeped again softly.

There were several dozen questions, at _least,_ that Obi-Wan wanted to ask the droid--starting with how he had gotten here, not to mention why _here,_ specifically. But, unlike Anakin, he couldn’t understand the droid without some sort of text interface; and the longer they stood around, the likelier it was they’d be caught.

_Artoo might have come here for the same reason I did--needing an escape route, seeking somewhere familiar. It’s more than likely Anakin brought him along on at least one of his escapades. But it doesn’t really matter at this point, I suppose. Besides, having him along will hardly hurt us._ “Can you unlock this ship?” he asked, instead.

The droid beeped again, in what he assumed was an affirmative, and went back to fiddling with the ship. In mere seconds, the boarding ramp slid open with a faint hiss and an unnervingly loud creaking noise.

“I think our luck’s run out,” Padme said, glancing towards the shipyard’s entrance.

“Get on board, quickly,” Obi-Wan said. “Artoo, get the ship started.” He positioned himself at the base of the boarding ramp to cover their exit.

None too soon--Padme had just barely disappeared into the ship when the Duros, now no longer bored and armed with a heavy pistol, ran around the corner.

The guard didn’t bother yelling, just aimed his blaster and started firing. Obi-Wan deflected the bolts with ease--concealing his identity as a Jedi no longer served any purpose. Barring any major problems with the engines, they would be on their way before any substantive pursuit could be organized. And he highly doubted the Force would have allowed him to choose _this_ ship if that was a significant risk.

“Artoo, close the ramp!” he called, backing along it as he shifted to deflect another volley from the guard.

He almost missed one; it singed the base of his tabards, but he remained unhurt. The ramp sealed shut and the ship rocked into motion.

“Are you all right?” he asked Padme, pausing for half a second to wait for her answer.

“Yes, I’m fine. You?”

He nodded once, and continued on to join Artoo in the cramped cockpit.

The droid had, fortunately, found an outlet and plugged himself in, which meant the readouts enabled actual communication. “Any difficulties with air traffic control?” he asked.

\This ship belongs to a small-time smuggler. I am locating their sliced access codes now. Once I have them, we should have no trouble.\

“Good,” he said. He strapped himself in--heard Padme do the same behind him--and concentrated on piloting them out between the buildings and into the atmosphere. He did his best to behave as though this were a perfectly ordinary departure, as though they weren’t fugitives in a stolen ship, and trusted in Anakin’s highly-modified pet droid to get them past security in one piece.

The Force was with them; they made it through the last layer of shields just as an alarm burst across their com channels, containing a fairly accurate, if vague description of Obi-Wan himself-- _male human, bearded, roughly 1.8 meters tall, mid-thirties, Jedi survivor, kill on sight_ \--and thankfully nothing about Padme.

\Where are we going?\ Artoo asked.

“Polis Massa,” he said.

The droid ruminated on that for a moment, seeking the appropriate navigation data and making his calculations for the jump to hyperspace.

“Polis Massa?” Padme asked. “That’s...pretty far out.”

“Yes,” he said. “Senator Organa brought us there before. It’s only very tenuously connected to any of us, and there’s a...there’s a reasonably well-equipped med center.”

She looked away, gripping the arms of her chair a little tighter. “Right.”

Artoo had finished the calculations, and Obi-Wan pulled the lever to send them into hyperspace, holding his breath in case something went wrong.

Nothing did. He slumped a little in his chair. _We did it. We made it. We're clear, at least for now._

Behind him, he heard Padme sigh, and shift a little in her seat. She said nothing, but he could sense that, now that the adrenaline of their escape was wearing off, she had the mental energy to _think_ again. And her thoughts were starting to twist in on themselves, forming a tight, tense spiral of keen distress.

“What exactly did you and Motee decide to do?” He was mostly asking her to distract--well, both of them, if he were completely honest with himself. His own anxiety and grief was feeding off of hers, and vice versa. Best to try and derail the feedback loop before things got too out of hand.

He had guessed at least a portion of their plan, of course. Obviously, the end goal was for Padme’s departure from Coruscant would go unnoticed for as long as possible. And, given that Padme had indicated Motee and Typho would need her ship, they were probably going to lay down a false trail, going anywhere but Polis Massa.

Still, he was somewhat curious about the details. And it would give them something relevant but distracting to discuss.

“She’ll give us a few hours’ head start,” Padme said. She glanced at the ship’s chrono. “So...probably about now, or in the next half hour or so, she’s going to collapse. Typho will take her home, citing a medical emergency.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Coruscant’s medical centers are more than adequate. Won’t people question why you left at all?”

“Maybe,” Padme acknowledged. “But my pregnancy is...at this point, I’m pretty sure it’s an open secret, even if no one’s said anything to me yet. And it’ll _have_ to be made public now. We prepared a couple of...scenarios, so depending on how things...depending on what happens next, we’ll upload a set of forged records to a medical droid. Given the circumstances--whatever those end up being--I’m sure people will understand why I wanted to be at home.”

“I see.” He didn’t particularly like the idea of one of the ‘scenarios’ she had hinted at, but she was probably right to consider all possibilities. Even the unimaginable ones. And the part about her condition being an open secret was almost certainly true. He was hardly an expert on such things, but she was...well, a little _obvious_ at the moment. She’d been dressing carefully to conceal it, but...

“Whatever happens from here,” she said quietly, staring out the viewport with one hand on her stomach, “whatever happens from here, I will make sure my child is safe, and I’m free to act.”

He nodded. “I’ll help, in any way I can,” he promised.

She gave him a quick, fierce smile. “Thank you.”

He managed a small smile back. “Of course.”

She paused for a minute, her smile slipping, and-- _and now we get to the questions she_ really _wants answered._ There was, after all, no longer any excuse to delay the conversation--no more pressing needs, no chance of eavesdroppers to put Anakin at risk.

He took a deep breath to center himself. _There is no emotion, there is peace._ He sought the detachment he’d need to walk her through Anakin’s injuries; to prepare her, as best he could, for what she might find when they arrived, with...somewhat mixed results. _There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no emotion, there is peace._

He opened his mouth to start, but his inner turmoil, despite his best efforts, must have shown on his face, because she held up a hand to stop him, shaking her head. “I’m not--do you have any...any scans, anything written down? I don’t...I’m not going to ask you to tell me. That’s not...that’s just _cruel._ ”

“I...oh,” he said, far more relieved than he should have been. “Yes, I...I should still have it with me.” He’d copied the scans onto a data card before leaving. It accomplished absolutely nothing, except that it made him _feel_ like he was accomplishing something. As if just having the information at his fingertips meant he was _doing_ something to solve the problem, even from a distance. As if knowing _exactly_ what was wrong with Anakin made it easier to set right.

_There is no ignorance, there is knowledge._

And there it was, still safe in his pocket. He passed it over to her.

“Thank you,” she said, and retreated to find a datapad to read it.

He sank back into his seat, staring bleakly out the viewport at the swirling sky. They were safe in hyperspace now; he didn’t need to focus on piloting anymore, and he had--there was far too much on his mind for him to function properly. He’d done rather well so far, but now that he was left with nothing to _do…_

_Master Yoda was right, to send me away,_ he thought, with no little chagrin at the way he’d initially reacted to the suggestion. _I’m in no fit state to confront anyone right now, let alone Palpatine._

Well, the trip to Polis Massa would take several hours. Time enough for him to at least start to put himself back together.

He shifted into a proper meditative posture, closed his eyes, and sought whatever small measure of peace he could.

 

* * *

 

“Obi-Wan?”

“Mm?”

Time was hard to track in hyperspace under the best of circumstances, but a glance at the ship’s chrono showed Obi-Wan that it had been several hours since Padme had left him alone in the cockpit with Artoo.

He’d been--not quite meditating, despite his efforts; but not quite _aware,_ either, of much of anything other than the swirled sky of hyperspace around them. Artoo was doing most of the piloting, so it had been safe to drift for a moment (or, apparently, much longer), and he had needed--something. He wasn’t quite sure _what_ he needed, really, other than the ability to turn back time and undo the past few days somehow.

But, as that was, so far as he knew, utterly impossible-- _there is no ignorance, there is knowledge_ \--and as he had been unable to focus properly, he had settled for drifting aimlessly in his head. He had been, to not put too fine a point on it, _hiding_ in his fog of exhaustion, just close enough to alertness to be able to act if something went wrong, but far enough from it that he didn’t have to think.

“What’s our ETA?” Padme asked. He wasn’t sure exactly when she’d come back into the cockpit; she hadn’t brought the datapad with her, but she still looked pale, and had her hands clasped tight, white-knuckled, in front of her. She was full of nervous tension, mixed with something else that he couldn’t quite read.

And it wasn’t hard to guess why. She’d had more than enough time, he guessed, to read through and fully grasp what was on the scans he’d shared with her. It was one of the many worries _he_ was hiding from, in his comforting fog. “He’ll still be…” He trailed off. Anakin _was_ still alive at the moment, he knew that much. He’d devoted a tiny tendril of energy to their bond, monitoring it, making sure it didn’t wink out while he wasn’t paying attention. But this moment was no guarantee for the next one, or the next. How could he reassure her, when he could barely reassure himself?

“No, I know,” she said, though she sounded approximately as certain as he felt. “I just...how much longer?”

A simple question, one that could be answered with raw data, concrete facts. He could handle that. “Of course.” He checked the readouts. “Ah, about two hours.”

“Right. Okay.” She took a deep breath. “We...may have a complication.”

Obi-Wan blinked. “What do you mean? Are you all right?”

“Yes, I’m fine, but…” Despite what she said, her voice was tight and he could feel a new spiral of anxiety starting to work its way out of her. She took another shaky breath. “Um. I think the baby is coming. Now.”

For half a second, Obi-Wan’s world whited out at the edges. Not back into the fog; this was an entirely different sort of non-place. _What? No. No, I can’t deal with this. I simply cannot take_ one more thing _going wrong and I’ve barely even_ been _to a creche since I aged out and I have_ never _done this before, and if I do this wrong, if we lose her, too--_

But only for half a second. As off-balance as he still was, he had been a Jedi for far too long to let blind panic take over. He tried releasing it into the Force and, when that didn’t work, locked it down in a corner of his mind to process properly later and focused on what he _could_ do, immediately, in that moment.

“Right,” he said, his voice remarkably steady, he thought, given the circumstances. “What can I do to help? I’m afraid I don’t--have much experience in this particular area.” _Though apparently I’m about to get some. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge._

“I know,” she said. “I know this isn’t--um, I’ve been reading, but I never...I n-never thought it would be like this. I didn’t want it to go like this.” She was starting to cry. “W-we were...w-we were supposed to go _home,_ a-and h-he was supposed to _be there,_ I don’t…I-I don’t th-think I can do this alone.”

“I know,” he said, projecting calm as best he could, when it was all he could do to keep from breaking down himself. “I know, none of this is going how any of us planned. But you’re not alone. I know I’m not--I’m not who should be here, but I am. I promise. You’re _not_ alone. I’m here, all right?” He rested a hand on her forehead briefly, trying to soothe her without actually sedating her--he had no idea how that would interfere with the...process. And it was all too easy to overdo this sort of thing.

This time, he seemed to gauge it right, taking the edge off the worst of her fear without making her groggy or disoriented.

Then she cried out, stumbling into him.

The next hour and a half were something of a blur. Obi-Wan made decisions based on subtle hints from the Force, and what Padme could relay of her research between contractions. He tried to keep her calm, to ease her pain--though, the way she was screaming told him that that last, at least, was somewhat less than successful.

And then--

“I’m...I’m fairly sure that’s a head,” he said. “All right? We’re close, Padme. Almost there. Almost…”

She cried out again, he felt her push, and _then--_

Oh. My.

There was an entire tiny human in his hands. An entire _very_ tiny human, slick with blood and the other effluvia of childbirth. The Force sang around him, welcoming the new life; this new, bright and shining entire being that--

“Obi-Wan?” Padme said.

“A boy,” he told her. “Your son.” _Anakin’s son. I am holding Anakin’s son._

“Luke,” she said. “His name’s Luke. I was right. I was--”

She tensed again, and the Force surged around him, because--

_Oh, dear._

“Padme? Padme, I think--I think there’s another one.”

And he had nowhere to put Luke while he helped with the child’s sibling; he shifted him a little, as gently as he could, and then Padme _pushed_ and…

The second child, the little girl, handled the transition from what was probably a very nice, warm, comfortable, _safe_ place with far less aplomb than her brother. She made her displeasure known with an impossibly loud wail that _should not_ have been able to come from a baby that small.

“Is--” Padme panted.

“A little girl,” he told her. He was smiling; despite everything, with these two golden presences in his arms, shining bright through the Force, he felt like he might never stop.

“Leia,” she breathed. “I guess we were both right.”

“About what?” he asked. “Shh, shh, Leia, it’s all right, you’re all right…”

“Is something wrong?” Padme asked. “Let me see them--Obi-Wan--”

_Oh. Right._ He very, _very_ carefully stood up, moving around to stand closer to Padme’s head. “Here they are. They’re fine, they’re perfectly fine.”

“They are,” she said. She let out a little choking noise, halfway between a laugh and a sob, and, feather-light, ran a finger down Luke’s cheek. “Hi.”

Obi-Wan held his breath for half a second, trying to hold on to this island of perfect joy; with his brother’s children in his arms and the faint sense of Anakin still alive at the back of his mind. The sheer sense of hope, of _life,_ was almost enough to make him forget the horrors of the past few days, and the darkness that all too likely still lay ahead of them.

But there was still work to be done. Very, very gently, he set the babies down next to their mother. As he cut the cords, an alarm went off in the cockpit, bringing a rather abrupt end to that idyll.

Padme blinked, and tensed a little, briefly distracted from her children at her side. “What’s…?”

“We’re coming out of hyperspace,” he said. “Will you be all right for a moment?”

She nodded, relaxing again.

He hesitated for half a second but--everything he could see or sense indicated that she and the children were fine. And they would be landing at a med center in just a few moments.

“I’ll be right back,” he promised, then headed for the cockpit to help Artoo bring them safely into Polis Massa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter ended up way longer than I thought it would--I thought about splitting it into two, and there is a breakpoint I could have used, but I wanted the happy at the end to go up this week. Obi-Wan is just very...wordy.
> 
> Also, a couple people asked about Yoda after last week's update. Just wanted to let you guys know that I'm not going to show his duel with Palpatine, because it goes pretty much exactly the same as it does in canon.
> 
> Thanks so much for sticking with me this far! ~shadowsong


	7. Part 1, Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note that there is some discussion of medical issues. Also, I am not a doctor, and this is pulled from vague research and watching a lot of hospital soap operas. Please do not take anything described in that portion of the fic as sound medical information/advice.

It was over a day before Padme was allowed to see her husband.

To be fair, most of that day was spent hooked up to monitors herself, with the med droids and Kallidahin on the asteroid base making sure she and the twins were all right. So, she doesn’t mind the delay (much), especially since they helpfully provided her with updated scans as soon as she asked.

Anakin _was_ doing better. Or, she thought he was, anyway. She wasn’t exactly a medic, though she did have some basic first aid training, but based on the notations she could decipher, all the broken bones had been set correctly, and were holding; the burns and lacerations had been tended, and there were no signs of serious infection.

But his condition was still listed as critical, and there were a couple of serious problems that meant that he still might...

The first problem was, while the medcenter had bacta, they didn’t have enough for a full immersion tank, so they’d had to prioritize, and Anakin would be down for a while. Down, and in pain, with open wounds and shattered ribs. But he was alive, and he _was_ healing, if slowly. And slow was--well, slow progress was still progress.

The _bigger_ problem, though, was blood.

Anakin had lost a _lot > of blood, and the Kallidahin didn’t exactly keep human blood around for transfusions. For all that humans were the most common sentient species in the Galaxy, they were few and far between in this sector. And neither she nor Obi-Wan matched Anakin’s blood type. Probably Bail didn’t, either, or they would have gotten him to donate before he left._

There were stopgap solutions, and the medics here were employing each and every one they had access to. It was enough to keep him alive, but there wasn’t really any substitute for an actual transfusion. She had been repeatedly assured by the droids doing the bulk of the work tending him that he was stable now--still critical, but stable--but the low blood volume made him significantly more vulnerable to complications. And just because nothing else had gone wrong _yet..._

Between that and the horror stories Bail’s med droid had fed them about Anakin trying to _get up,_ when he had briefly regained consciousness on the way here, they were keeping him sedated for now. Just until he was a little stronger.

So, as soon as she and the twins were cleared, Padme collected them and moved into Anakin’s room. As much as it hurt to see him like that, she wanted to be there when he woke up. When the medics had tried to object--on the grounds that very young crying infants might disturb him--Obi-Wan had sided with her.

“They might help,” he’d said quietly.

“Really?” she’d asked. They hadn’t talked about it yet, but she knew that her children--that _Anakin’s_ children--would be strong in the Force. And she knew what that meant. She’d had several months to think through what that might mean--though this particular scenario hadn’t exactly occurred to her.

But they were so _small,_ and he was so hurt, and she didn’t want…she didn’t want that kind of pressure put on them. Not yet. Not _ever._ “Hope always does,” he said, with a faint smile.

Well. That was okay, then.

Then he’d found his own corner of Anakin’s room and very courteously passed out.

For her part, Padme slept on and off--when the twins did, mostly; miraculously, they were both pretty consistently sleeping at the same time, and she prayed to every deity she knew that they continued to do so. When she was awake, watched the displays monitoring Anakin’s vitals, tried to plan her next move, and tried to get to know the babies.

Luke was quieter than Leia, most of the time, but once he got started crying it was at least ten times harder to get him to stop.

Leia knew exactly what she wanted at all times and had about as much patience as her father did, but as easily as she became upset, she was just as easy to soothe--once you figured out why she was crying, anyway.

_It’s easy enough_ now, _anyway,_ Padme thought, at one point. _But in a few months, her needs are going to get a lot more complex._

But then she would get them to sleep, side by side in the little beds the Kallidahin had found for her; or one of them would yawn, or cling tight to her finger, and she would feel a deep, unshakeable warmth at the base of her spine and think-- _I made them. These are my children. My perfect, beautiful children._

She wanted to remember every second of these first few days with her children, when they were new and precious and perfect and just needed her love. Before everything got dark and complicated again.

And, whatever she did now, whatever she and Anakin decided--and it _would_ be their decision; even if they decided...even if they decided that the twins had to go away, with Obi-Wan or Yoda or one of the other survivors (because there _had_ to be other survivors). Even if, it was still their decision. The twins were _theirs_ for at least six months, whatever happened after. That was how this worked. And she would make damned sure it worked that way still.

Three days passed like that, with no visible change in Anakin’s condition, though the scans the medics took every four hours showed gradual, continuing improvement. Padme, despite her fears, managed to settle into a routine that wasn’t really a routine, because newborns didn’t exactly keep a regular schedule. Wake with the twins; tend to them; check on Anakin; maybe talk with Obi-Wan a little bit; sleep while she could; repeat.

And then Bail and Yoda joined them.

Unsuccessful.

Padme was no Jedi; she couldn’t sense these things. But she didn’t really need the Force to read the answer in Yoda’s grim quiet, or the slight slump of Bail’s shoulders.

Palpatine remained in power.

A part of Padme felt obscurely guilty for that--maybe if Obi-Wan had stayed on Coruscant, had gone with Yoda to attack him, it would have played out differently.

_But if he hadn’t been with me, if I’d gone into labor in hyperspace with only Artoo to help…_

If he felt the same way, he didn’t telegraph it in any way. Not that she could see, at least. And, she tried to console herself, she hadn’t really had any part in that decision.

_But I could have refused his escort._

She tried not to think about it too much. They were all alive, and wishing she’d played her hand differently, those last few hours on Coruscant, wouldn’t undo what had been done. No more than going over and over her very first visit to the Senate, thirteen years ago, and wishing she hadn’t listened to Palpatine then, could change things.

_Move forward,_ she told herself. _The situation is what it is. Simply wishing won’t make it any different. And we’re all alive. We can fight back. It’ll just...it just might take some time._ And that hurt to acknowledge, knowing what Palpatine would be able to _do_ in the meantime, but there wasn't much else they could do. Fight as hard as they could, and pray it didn't take _too_ long.

Obi-Wan left, to go sit with Bail and Yoda in the conference room and try to plot strategy. Padme joined them as soon as she got the twins to sleep--she left Artoo on watch; there was no one else she trusted who wasn’t otherwise occupied--and found that the others had come to more or less the same conclusion.

“Appear, an opportunity will,” Yoda said quietly. “Patient, we must be, until then.”

“But in the meantime, we can’t simply sit by and do nothing,” Obi-Wan said.

“I agree.” Padme found a seat at the table, next to Bail. “There are enough in the galaxy who will refuse to accept what Palpatine has done. We can fight.”

But Bail shook his head. “I don’t think it’ll be that simple, Padme. He has resources. He has the army. He has the capital. He has most of the Senate--you know what it’s like. Even among those that don’t actively support him, too many of our colleagues are more concerned with protecting themselves, or, more charitably, their individual constituencies. Even if they don’t _like_ what’s happened, they won’t risk active resistance.”

“There are those who will.”

“Not enough,” he said. “We need time, to build a strong enough coalition.”

“But if we just sit by and do _nothing_ in the meantime, he’ll become too entrenched,” she pointed out. “The longer we wait, the harder it’ll be to undo everything he’s done.”

“Correct, you both are,” Yoda said. “Patient, we must be, but complete inaction, we cannot risk. Resist, we must--but in small ways. A long road this will be--difficult. Dangerous. Slow. Your coalition, you will build in the Senate, and limit expansion of this evil from the Core, we will.”

“Sabotage,” Obi-Wan said.

“Yes.” 

It made sense, Padme knew, even though she felt like it wasn’t anywhere near enough. Bail had a point--they didn’t have the resources to do much else.

But it would take _years._ And then even longer, to fix what he would break while he had absolute power.

Power _she_ had given him.

And that was what kept sticking at her, what kept undercutting the optimism she tried so hard to maintain. Not that she didn't think they could do it--they could, they _would_ \--or even how long and hard a fight it would be. She had never been afraid of a fight.

But the fact that it was her fault...

The guilt, that she had made Palpatine's empire possible, wouldn't go away.

Yoda, across the table, looked right at her, one of his ears twitching. “The blame for this, place where it belongs: with the Sith, no others. Blind, we _all_ were--but for Sidious’ actions, this does _not_ make us responsible.”

She flushed and inclined her head, acknowledging the point, even if she didn’t quite believe it yet.

“What about…” Obi-Wan hesitated. “What about the children?”

Padme stiffened, and started to answer--she hadn’t expected this from _Obi-Wan_ of all people--but Master Yoda beat her to it.

“Hmm. Wait, we will,” he said. His eyes flicked over to Padme. “A decision for the parents, this is. Training--in time, yes. Need it, they will. But perhaps not in the traditional way.” He sighed, and it was as if the weight of all his near nine hundred years settled on him in an instant. “Too long have we relied on tradition and nothing else. Complacent, we have grown. Adapt, we must, if to survive this, we are.”

For a moment, the four of them were silent.

“I agree,” Obi-Wan finally said. “But that wasn’t...that wasn’t what I meant. Not entirely, anyway.” He glanced over at Padme, silently asking her forgiveness for botching this.

She nodded. “What, then?”

“If Palpatine knows--and I think it would be unwise to assume he doesn’t--he will come after them.”

“Oh,” she said.

She hadn’t thought of that--but, now that he mentioned it…

_I won’t let him,_ she thought. _I will_ not _let that monster warp my children._

“Hide them, we should,” Yoda said. “But where, and how…”

Padme stood up. “We can’t talk about this now. Not until--Anakin _has_ to be a part of this conversation.” Because they were right. The children would have to be hidden, and if that meant her and Anakin going into hiding, too, spending the rest of their lives on the run, one step ahead of Imperial patrols--

_Maybe. It would be a hard life, and even harder because we’d have two small children, and we’ve never actually_ lived _together before, so we’d be learning how to do that at the same time. As much as we love each other, as much as we’ve always dreamed of living together, being together--well, neither of us is exactly adept at compromise. And, with everything else such a mess around us, it would be…it would be hard. But we could do it. If it meant keeping the children safe...we would make it work. But if we run, if we hide...if we do that, we won’t be able to_ help. _And there is_ so much _work to do._

She’d told Obi-Wan that she planned to remain free to act, and she still did. She had laid the groundwork with Motee for just that purpose. It had been a promise--to her friends, to herself, to the galaxy as a whole. To fix what she had accidentally helped break.

But it was one thing to plan, and to promise, and another to have the problem actually in front of her, to be confronted with the _reality_ of--

“I’ll discuss it with Anakin,” she said, interrupting her own increasingly bleak thoughts. “When he wakes.”

“Whatever you decide,” Obi-Wan said, “I will help you keep them safe. I promise.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. She closed her eyes briefly, collecting herself, then sat back down at the table.

Bail took his cue from her, and shifted the topic to practical considerations, things they could do right away. Contacts they could cultivate, possible locations for drop points, sources for supplies, potential safehouses, ways they could communicate securely.

_That,_ at least, she could help with--she and Anakin hadn’t spent three years secretly married without learning some creative ways to slip messages past eavesdroppers.

By the time the twins woke again a couple hours later, Padme was less uneasy. Those unanswerable, uncomfortable questions about her children and her own role in events to come, were still there, but she was _doing_ something. Even the guilt seemed a little more manageable, at least for the moment. And Yoda had a point--while she had played a part in setting the stage, Palpatine's choices, his crimes, were his own.

So, there it was. Anakin was still unconscious, her children were still in danger, and this was only the start of what would be a long, hard war, but they could do it. This rebellion they had started, in a too-white, too-sterile conference room in a hidden hospital on an isolated asteroid base; the four of them, and Anakin--they would see this through. They would make things right. Padme had faith that there was light at the end of the road. She refused to give up on it.

Now they just had to hold together, to stay alive long enough to reach it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update--this chapter gave me a lot of trouble. It still feels a little messy, but I decided it was time to put it out there and move on, otherwise I'd keep fiddling with it for another week or two...
> 
> Anyway, here it is. Thanks so much for sticking with me through this story so far!
> 
> ~shadowsong


	8. Part 1, Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place a week or two after the last one.

Anakin was cold.

Which, all right, wasn’t exactly anything new. He was almost always cold; the desert, apparently, was still seared deep into his bones, making it hard for him to ever feel truly warm. 

But this--what he was feeling right now--wasn’t normal-planet cold, though; it went deeper than that, somewhere between deep-space cold and bloodloss cold instead, something draining that he couldn’t push through and ignore.

There was pain, too, pretty much everywhere; but it was muffled-- _ drugs? I think I was drugged, maybe. _

Huh. He could string a coherent thought together. That was a relief. It couldn’t be  _ that _ bad if he could string a coherent thought together.

Less heartening was the fact that he couldn’t quite seem to draw a full breath. There was a sort of pressure on his chest, backed up by pain.

_ Oh. Guess my ribs broke. _

Okay. That was okay, and familiar. Refreshingly familiar? His life was weird. At least he knew how to deal with that. At least that was a touchstone, an anchor point to reality in all the kriffing drug(?)-induced fog.

Cautiously, he tried opening his eyes, and-- _ nope, bad idea. _ The lights were too bright, driving spikes into his already-aching head. And, maybe it was the drugs, or the pain, or maybe it was just too damn bright, but everything was blurred, out of focus, making him a little nauseous.

_ Okay. Let’s try something else. _ He took as deep a breath as he could, trying to center himself and get some sense of where he was.

_ Medcenter. _ He knew  _ that _ feeling, too; no matter what planet or base or installation he was on, hospitals always felt the same. Other than providing another familiar anchor point, it wasn’t really all that helpful, though--between the pain and the drugs and the broken ribs, it was a reasonable guess.

_ Asteroid, I think. _ He didn’t pick up on a lot of ambient life.  _...where am I? Who brought me here? I don’t...I don’t remember much after… _

He shied away from those memories, or at least  _ tried _ to. He could feel his heartbeat speeding up a little; one of the machines was beeping.

_ All my fault this is my fault my fault I didn’t see it didn’t stop it I was supposed to stop it I was-- _

He squeezed his eyes shut; scrambled through the Force, looking for something-- _ anything _ \--familiar and positive to ground him.

_ There. _

Obi-Wan was close; he could sense him--warm and comforting and slightly veiled. Sleeping.

_ He’s alive. Thank the Force, Obi-Wan wasn’t...he’s  _ alive _. _

The relief at finding him cut through the panic and the guilt, and he felt himself relaxing. He was shaking a little, he thought; reaction, or-- _ no, I can’t be  _ that _ bad. _

_...wait, I knew he was alive, didn’t I…? I think…Yes, I did know that. I saw him, he survived the--he survived. That’s important.  _ Remember  _ that. Don’t forget again. _

His memories of the last few--of however long it had been were a little fuzzy. But, now that his brain was waking up, he  _ did _ remember seeing Obi-Wan. The memory itself was a little hazy--more pain, more drugs, hovering on the edge of consciousness--but it was  _ there. _ Hazy or not, he  _ remembered _ waking up, finding Obi-Wan hovering nearby, a beacon in the chaos ( _ like he always has been; he didn’t abandon me, didn’t betray me, how the hell could I have ever doubted him _ ); and he remembered talking to him; telling him to get to Palpatine, and to get Padme--

_ Padme _ .

He nearly managed to sit up on the stark adrenaline of that thought alone.  _ Is she alive is she safe did he kill her the baby what about the baby was it all for nothing this wasn’t what I wanted this wasn’t-- _

Adrenaline, despite its best efforts, wasn’t  _ quite _ enough to outweigh the pain. He fell back with a faint cry. His head was spinning, and he couldn’t get a deep breath to center himself-- _ kriffing ribs _ \--

He might have blacked out again. He wasn’t sure. But after some time, he was able to process more than just raw pain, and tried opening his eyes again. The light didn’t hurt as much this time, at least, but the room was still blurry, still cold; everything still hurt.

_ Okay. Calm down, and try again. Don’t move too fast. You can do this. Just… _

He closed his eyes again and stretched out with the Force. Finding Padme was sometimes hit or miss, even for him, unless they were in pretty close proximity. She wasn’t a Jedi, so her Force signature was a lot less--

_ Huh. _ That was strange. There were,  _ very _ close by, two slightly erratic pulses in the Force, unlike anything he had ever sensed before. They seemed to be gravitating towards him, or he towards them. They were...muted, sort of. Not veiled with sleep, like Obi-Wan’s, but sort of…uncertain? Unfinished?

He didn’t have a word for it. He’d never sensed anything quite like them before. But they were full of Light, full of life, and they were--soothing. He felt better, just knowing they were there. Whatever they were. Which was sort of weird, and maybe should have worried him, that something so wholly unknown could have so profound an effect on him, especially when he was wounded and could barely sit up but…

They made him feel  _ better _ . They didn’t--it wasn’t that the pain was gone, with them there, but more like...it was easier to handle. Like he  _ knew _ , indisputably, deep as the desert in his bones, that the pain would end someday. And there was no layer of threat whatsoever in their presences. He could have stayed there, drifting, aligning himself to those two soft starbursts, for hours.

_ Padme, _ he reminded himself.  _ Find Padme. You’ll be able to find these two again later, now that you know what they look like. You can figure out what they are, or draw comfort or...whatever. _

Reluctantly, he disengaged and stretched his senses out further and--

She was here. She was  _ here _ , that was  _ her _ , cool and soothing like summer rain, and he could have cried with relief.

_ She’s safe. She’s safe, she’s alive, she’s okay, we didn’t--we’re all--I didn’t lose her. I didn’t lose her, or Obi-Wan, or-- _

All at once, that relief evaporated, and the memory of the Temple dying all around him crept into its place.

_ I’m a terrible person. I’m a terrible Jedi, a terrible Chosen One--so many people  _ died _ , people I was supposed to protect, and still,  _ still _ , all I care about is--I was blind,  _ so _ blind, and so  _ selfish _ have I learned  _ nothing?

“Ani?”

Padme’s voice cut through his spiral of self-loathing, if only for a moment. He felt her hand, cool and smooth, resting on his forehead, then his cheek.

He opened his eyes.

“Ani!” She was a little blurry, but her smile, like always, lit up his entire world.

“Hi,” he managed to whisper. She was so beautiful, and safe, and  _ alive _ , and he hadn’t had to--he hadn’t had to take Palpatine’s offer ( _ how could I have even  _ considered _ it she would never have forgiven me I would have lost her anyway lost Obi-Wan lost  _ everyone) after all.

Something was--something was different, though. And maybe it was because of the pain, or maybe because there were still  _ way _ too many drugs pouring through him, but his brain didn’t seem to be running properly right now. It took him a minute to figure it out.

Padme wasn’t pregnant anymore.

His heart sank.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. Her smile slipped a little, and she fussed with something he couldn’t quite see. “Are you--if you’re hurting, I can get one of the doctors, we can--”

“The baby?”

“Oh,” she said, and relaxed, smiling again. “Do you think you can--here, let me help you sit up. There’s someone you should meet.”

And his heart leapt up again, lodging somewhere in his throat.  _ Not gone. Not dead, just--the baby was  _ born _ I have a  _ baby _ Padme and I have a  _ baby.

He started to sit up on his own, and she rested a gentle but unyielding hand on his shoulder.

“Easy,” she said, some of the light draining out of her smile. “Don’t...don’t overdo it, you’ve been…you’re still...”

“ _ Padme _ ,” he said, and okay it was a little whiny but--

“Let me  _ help _ you,” she insisted.

Arguing with his wife rarely ended well for him, and it would just waste time and his  _ child _ , his little girl--or maybe his son? Padme had thought they were having a boy--was  _ right there _ .

“Fine,” he conceded.

Inch by inch, with a lot more support than he liked to admit he needed, he managed to get a little better than halfway upright, leaning against the headboard. The effort left him breathless, and it  _ hurt _ , but he made it. More of the cobwebs seemed to be clearing out of his head now, too; the room was less blurry, it was easier to focus.

Easier to see it when Padme frowned a little.

“I’m fine,” he said. “I want to...want to see the baby. Please?” He tried to smile, as reassuringly as he could, and thought he managed to pull it off.

She quirked a smile of her own, but he could still feel worry bleeding after her. He did his best to look fully alert and awake and not as breathless and pathetic as he felt. “All right. Don’t move.” She slipped off, out of view, returning a few seconds later with a squirmy little pile of blankets. “This is Leia,” she said, very carefully setting the baby on his lap.

_ Leia. _

She was so  _ tiny _ .

“Hi,” he breathed, barely noticing when Padme slipped off again. “Hi, Leia. I’m...uh, I’m your dad.”

Leia made a faint noise, batting around with her tiny, tiny fists, narrowly missing hitting him.

“And this,” Padme said, carefully perching on the edge of the bed holding--

_ Wait, what…? _

“This is Luke.”

_??????!!!!!! _

“Luke…?”

“Mmhmm.” She shifted her hold on the baby--the  _ other _ baby, there were  _ two _ babies how were there  _ two entire babies _ \--so he could see his son’s face a little clearer.

Luke was asleep, or at least he had his eyes closed and he wasn’t wriggling like Leia. But he had the cutest little nose Anakin had ever seen-- _ is that a weird thing to notice? _ \--and then he sighed faintly and burrowed deeper into Padme’s arms.

“Oh,” Anakin breathed, realizing he’d been silent for way too long, staring. “Oh, wow.”

Padme grinned at him. “They’re pretty perfect, aren’t they?”

_ Starbursts, _ he realized.  _ These--the twins--they’re are my starbursts. _

“They’re  _ absolutely _ perfect,” he corrected her.

“Absolutely,” she agreed.

“How...how did we miss that there were  _ two? _ ” Never mind that he should’ve sensed them, but she’d had a carefully-maintained and frequently-wiped med droid looking after her. Didn’t prenatal care usually come with scans, pictures…?

She shrugged, and, rather than attempting to solve that mystery, leaned over to kiss him.

Okay. He liked that answer just fine. 

And,  _ oh _ , he could’ve stayed like that forever--with Padme and the twins; just together, like they were right here, right now. This was all he’d ever really wanted, after all.  _ This _ was what he’d been willing to--

_ No. I’m not going to spoil it. This is a happy moment. I’m happy. _

Leia wriggled again on his lap and he automatically reached to catch her before she fell and--

_ Ow. Okay. Uh. Guess my arm broke, too. ...could be worse. Could be  _ gone.

“Ani?”

“M’okay,” he said, blinking back the stars. He tried to recapture that feeling, but the moment was gone. “I’ve got her, don’t--I’ve got her, I won’t let her fall.”

“I know you won’t,” she said. She shifted position, so she was practically lying down next to him, leaning against the headboard with the twins between them. “Ani, what are we going to  _ do? _ ”

The same question she’d asked him--it felt like forever ago, when he finally got back to Coruscant, when she first told him about the baby. And he wanted,  _ oh _ , he wanted to tell her the same thing-- _ We’re not going to worry about anything right now. _

But he couldn’t. There wasn’t anything  _ but _ ‘right now’ anymore. Palpatine was still out there--Anakin knew that, as surely as he knew he himself was still alive.  _ I’d  _ know  _ if he was dead, and isn’t  _ that  _ a kriffing uncomfortable thought? _

And Palpatine would come after the children.

_ No. No, I won’t let him--I will  _ never _ let him anywhere  _ near _ my children, I will do whatever I have to do, I will-- _

Leia shifted again, making a faint, almost unhappy noise.

He blinked.  _ Wait, can she--? _

And then came the guilt.

_ Never again. I will  _ never _ let myself come that close to the edge again. _

Because he knew damn well  _ how _ close he’d come. His children deserved better from him.

“Ani?” Padme asked softly, pulling him out of the spiral and back to solving the problem at hand.

“I don’t know,” he said. “We can’t--we have to keep them safe.”

She nodded. “Yeah.” She paused. “We could run,” she offered.

_ We could. _ Maybe, just maybe, there was a part of the galaxy Palpatine didn’t control yet. Somewhere they could take their children and just  _ be _ together--Obi-Wan could come too, if he wanted--somewhere they’d be  _ safe _ , from Palpatine and from what Anakin had almost become and what he had failed to live up to and everything else he hadn’t thought of yet.

Except--

_ No. We couldn’t. _

This was on him.  _ He _ had screwed this all up.  _ He _ was responsible.  _ He _ had trusted Palpatine, had played right into the Sith Lord’s hands like the idiot he tried so hard to pretend he wasn’t.  _ He _ was responsible for the death of the Jedi, of the Republic.

_ And I could never forgive myself if I just--walked away. If I gave up. If I didn’t even  _ try _ to fix what I broke. _

And, he realized, Padme probably wouldn’t, either. Forgive herself, at least, for walking away from the fight.

_ This is what I  _ WANT, something inside him cried. A life, with his wife and his perfect children, just-- _ being _ together, and he had the chance, but he couldn’t…

_ Look at where thinking only of what you  _ want _ has gotten you, _ he reminded himself.

He closed his eyes, took as deep a breath as he could, and, for possibly the first time in his life, he let go.

“We can’t,” he said. “There’s too--there’s too much work to do here.”

She sighed, and nodded, resting her head against his. “And…” She swallowed; she was crying, and he knew he couldn’t make this better, and he hated himself for it. “And my work is...it’s still in the Senate. Whatever’s left of the Senate now.”

_ And if I go back to Coruscant, if I stay with you… _

“And mine is...I’m not...” he said. “If I...I’ll just...he’ll…”

“I know,” she said. “I know, I know…”

_ This isn’t fair. We’ve had three  _ years _ of this already _ .

“This isn’t forever,” she whispered, kissing his cheek softly. “It isn’t forever, it won’t be, we won’t  _ let _ it. I love you.  _ That _ part’s forever.”

“I know,” he said. “I love you, too. Forever. Even if--” He swallowed.

She nodded; he felt her head move against his, heard her shaking breaths as she tried to get control of herself. “But that still...th-the twins, we have to...what are we going to  _ do? _ ”

He couldn’t ask her to give up her children. They were  _ hers _ , at least as much as his, and every single fiber of him rebelled at letting either one of them out of his sight. He knew Padme had to feel the same. But she was the one who would be more visible; she was the one who would be closest to--to Palpatine.

On the other hand, as soon as he bullied the medics here into letting him out, he planned on making life  _ very _ difficult for the Chancellor, the only way he knew how, at least until he got a chance to stab the Sith Lord right in the kriffing face. And doing that with a pair of infants along was...

“We have to hide them,” he said, because he knew that was true. “But--but I can’t--I don’t want--”

“What if…” She hesitated. “What if we...what if each of us takes one of them? That...that way…”

She didn’t finish the thought, and he didn’t want to, either.

_ If the worst should happen, at least  _ one _ of them will survive. And we won’t have to give them up, and we won’t be--neither of us will be alone. _

“Okay,” he said. “Okay.”

But that left another question.

“How--how do we…?”  _ How do we  _ choose?

“I…” She trailed off, then curled closer. “I have Luke. You have Leia. Let’s just...keep it that way.”

He nodded. “I have Leia. You have Luke.”

“Not forever,” she said. “Right?”

“Not forever,” he echoed, and closed his eyes. “And you’ll--don’t go yet, please?”

“I won’t,” she promised. He felt her kiss the top of his head. “I’ll stay a little longer.”

_ Just a little longer. And it won’t be forever. _

Anakin repeated it in his head, over and over and over again, trying so hard to believe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this was an emotional roller coaster of a chapter and took a while to get right.
> 
> I spent a long time trying to figure out how I was going to handle this--Anakin being fully _Anakin_ again, despite how close he'd come to becoming Vader. He's got a long road ahead of him; but it basically boils down to: Anakin, for lack of a better term, hit rock bottom in the Temple (right before he hit rock bottom/Bail's speeder _outside_ the Temple) (look this AU's working title was 'The One Where Anakin Doesn't Fall [Except Literally]). ...Anyway, he starts making better choices now; or at least trying to. Like I said, he's not all the way there yet, but he's made a good start, anyway, and it will be an (at least mostly) upward trend from here. And he will have help because ahahahaha Anakin is in no way capable of raising an infant by himself, and he's actually in a position to _admit_ that he needs help, so he and Leia will get it.
> 
> Anyway, uh...I guess now I've demonstrated why I don't typically leave ANs like this, mostly because I start babbling at great length...
> 
> (Also this fic is turning out _way_ longer than I originally anticipated it would be...@.@ close to 20k in and we're not even done with Part One...Thank you all for your patience and endurance!)


	9. Part 1, Chapter 9

Two weeks.

It had been two weeks since the world had come crashing down, and they’d found sanctuary on Polis Massa. Part of Obi-Wan still expected to blink and be back on Utapau, standing over Grievous’ smoking corpse--or even earlier, perhaps; back on Coruscant, saying goodbye to Anakin.

A goodbye that had come all too close to being permanent.

Maybe _that,_ really, was where everything had fallen apart.

Things were better now, to a point. Anakin had been conscious for the last week. Obi-Wan hadn’t had much chance to speak with him yet, but there would be time enough for that in the days to come.

At first, he had held back because--well, it wouldn’t have been fair. Padme and Bail had had to leave all too soon after Anakin finally woke, to resume something as close to their old lives as they could. Obi-Wan hadn’t wanted to intrude on what small, precious time Anakin had with his wife.

Especially since, in all likelihood, it would be _years_ before they saw one another again.

He had stayed close, though, and that had been enough. Like Padme and the children, he had slept in Anakin’s room (which he was fairly sure had brought Master Yoda’s disapproval, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to care at the moment). And they _had_ managed to say the important things-- _we survived, we’re side by side just as we have been for thirteen years, we will get through this, thank the Force you’re alive, don’t_ ever _scare me like that again._

And then, after Padme had left, Master Yoda had rather unsubtly ejected Obi-Wan, with a pointed suggestion that he use the time here to meditate, to reclaim his center. Which was fair; he knew he needed that time as much as Anakin needed the Grandmaster’s council. He could guess, to an extent, what the two of them were discussing. The things Anakin had done--and hadn’t done. There was, at this point, no real question of expelling Anakin from the Order, at least. Which, while merited under the old rules, was something of a relief for Obi-Wan. He wasn’t entirely sure _what_ he would have done, in that case. Particularly after coming so close to losing Anakin in a much more complete, irrevocable way.

Still, a part of him did wonder if this was _right_. Anakin’s violations--while he himself was more than willing to turn a blind eye, and had been even before everything had fallen apart--were serious ones. For him to escape any sort of sanction for the things he’d done…

But what sanction could there be, that wouldn’t just compound their shared misery? Or, failing that, fade into the background of everything else that had gone so very wrong?

Besides, there were brutally practical concerns in play--there were, quite simply, too few Jedi left. And Anakin, despite his violations, was _good._ They could not afford to lose him. Not now.

A messy question, and not one that Obi-Wan could answer--he was too close to it, without being quite at the actual center. So he had left it to Anakin and Master Yoda, to reflect on, and find a way through it.

For himself, he had taken the advice he’d been given, and retreated to a quiet corner of the base to try to sort through everything that had happened, to find a way to come to terms with it, insofar as he could. Leia helped, especially on those rare occasions when Anakin let her out of his sight and Obi-Wan got to hold her. Luke had, too, before Padme had left, taking him away. And that shining thread of his little brother’s presence, stronger and brighter every day, was a lifeline to which he clung.

He had, he thought, somehow reached _some_ sort of new equilibrium, at least, but peace, _true_ peace...came and went.

It would be a process. This grief, this unnamable, unimaginable grief...learning to live with it would be a process. One that would, most likely, take him the rest of his life.

_But I_ have _that life,_ he reminded himself. _So does Anakin, and so do the children…_

With that thought to give him hope for the future, he managed. Most of the time.

It would be easier, perhaps, when they got moving again. He smiled a little to himself at the thought. _Anakin’s rubbing off on me, I think. Always on the move._

As if that thought had prompted him, he stood up and stretched, and started working his way through the complex, back towards Anakin’s room.

“...been having the same conversation in circles for three days now,” he heard Anakin saying as he rounded the last corner.

Obi-Wan paused. He wasn’t entirely sure he should be hearing this, but--well, he _had_ been worried. And if he wanted to know how to help his brother--better than he had been lately--he needed to know things Anakin would never tell him. Things he himself could never ask directly. It wasn’t their way.

“Hmmm,” Master Yoda was saying. “And?”

“I don’t know,” Anakin said quietly, after a long pause. “I feel like I come up with a different answer every time.”

“Yes,” he said. “I, as well.”

_That_ wasn’t an admission Obi-Wan had expected to hear. For all Yoda had pointed out the Order needed to change…

_We are all adrift. He, as much as Anakin or I. The future is--not_ clouded, _precisely, not the same way it has been the past few years, but...lacking in any sort of foundation._

“So, what happens now?”

Obi-Wan’s attention was caught again at that. Anakin’s tone was...different, than he had come to expect. Particularly in those last few weeks, before he had gone to Utapau, and left Anakin caught between the Council and Palpatine.

_I should have brought you with me,_ he thought. _Whatever the Council said, I should never have left you with him._

He closed his eyes and released that guilt into the Force. Agonizing over past mistakes wouldn’t unmake them. He would learn from it, and move on. And, the next time someone--whether it was Anakin, or Master Yoda, or Obi-Wan himself--went to face Palpatine, it wouldn’t be alone. He would see to that.

But that change in Anakin’s tone concerned him. Rather than bitter, verging on desperate, he just sounded...tired. Resigned.

_I’m not sure I like that any better,_ he admitted to himself. _But--we’re all tired. We’re all grieving. Hopefully, this will pass. Hopefully, he will come out of this--better than he was. Stronger, steadier, but still himself. I don’t want him to_ lose _himself, as frustrating as he can be, I just…_

“Years, we will have,” Yoda said. “What meaning these changes have, to determine. And what shape, the Jedi Order will take.”

“Years,” Anakin said.

“But now, more immediate questions, we have to answer,” Yoda said, his voice turning brisk. “Join us shortly, Obi-Wan will.”

_Ah._ Another, thinner thread of guilt released into the Force--he really shouldn’t have been eavesdropping.

That done, Obi-Wan took the last few steps down the hallway and tapped on the door.

“Come in,” Anakin called.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” he said.

Anakin was upright, mostly unsupported. Leia was in his lap, as she almost always was; sleeping quietly, for once.

“No,” Yoda said. “Finished, we are,” he added, one ear twitching. “Until over, this war is, at least. Meditate on these questions, we both will, and find an answer then.”

Obi-Wan nodded, and found a seat on the other side of Anakin’s bed. “How are we going to do this?” he asked. Simply stated, but not simple to answer. _How are we going to fight the army that we once led? How, when there are so few of us to do it?_

“A place I have found, to hide from the Emperor’s sight,” Yoda said, with a faint sigh. “Too old am I, for a war like this. And too valuable a target, for the Sith. Derail any mission, my presence would. But coordinate I can. Observe, identify--plan.”

“Is it…” Anakin trailed off, then visibly steeled himself. “Is it going to be just the three of us?”

And that was Anakin, cutting straight to the heart of a matter, whether or not doing so was wise. Obi-Wan would have eased into it, but--well, the question needed to be asked, and was there really any way to soften it?

“Heard from no one else, have we,” Yoda said. “From the Temple, did any others escape?”

Anakin closed his eyes. “I don’t...know,” he admitted. “I could tell you...I could tell you how many died, before I lost consciousness. But…”

“There may be others,” Obi-Wan said. Such a thin thread of hope, but it was there.

“There _must_ be,” Anakin said.

He wasn’t wrong. Even if--even if the official reports were true, and only Anakin had escaped the Temple alive, surely not every Jedi who had been actively deployed had been killed.

“I agree,” Obi-Wan said quietly. “But the question...the question, then, is whether we seek them out.”

The three of them let that hang in the air for a moment.

“No,” Yoda finally said. And, as much as the word felt like yet another blow, Obi-Wan knew he was right. “Safer, it is, if scattered we remain.”

Anakin looked like he was about to argue, but then he looked down at Leia, sleeping in his lap, and nodded once.

“Draw attention, you two will,” Yoda said dryly. “Always, you have. Never change, do some things. Find us, others may. But seek them ourselves--we should not.”

Another silence.

Anakin broke it this time. “So, when do we start?”

“Leave, I will,” Yoda said. “Soon. Tomorrow, or the next day. Obi-Wan, when ready you are, some targets, I would suggest.”

Obi-Wan half-bowed in his seat. “Yes, Master,” he said.

“What about me?” Anakin said.

Obi-Wan and Yoda exchanged a long look. _As you said, Master. Some things never change._

“ _You_ are staying here,” he said.

Anakin frowned. “I’m not--”

“Leave this to you, I will, Obi-Wan,” Yoda interrupted, hopping off his chair. “Speak again before I go, we will.”

Anakin watched Yoda go, holding his argument back until the door shut and the two of them were left alone. “I’m doing a lot better,” he said. “I’m not...I need to _do_ something. I can _help_.”

“I know,” Obi-Wan said. “And, as soon as the doctors here clear you, I will be more than happy to have your help. But right now, your only responsibility is to _heal._ ”

“But--”

Obi-Wan simply raised an eyebrow.

Anakin shut his mouth, and glared off to the side. “How long?”

_Oh, good, that worked._ “As long as it takes,” he said.

Anakin sighed, then winced a little, putting one hand to his ribs. “I’m fine,” he said, quickly, probably catching Obi-Wan’s concern through their bond.

He frowned. “Anakin…”

“I’ll behave,” he said. “I just...I’m fine.”

_No, you’re not. But I’m not, either, I suppose. Though I’m a little closer than you are, I think. At least I’m not_ physically _injured on top of--everything else._

Things fell quiet between them; a silence heavy with all the things they hadn’t said, the past few years. All the ways they had failed each other, coming to the brink of--

Obi-Wan didn’t _know,_ and, frankly, he didn’t _want_ to, but one of the things he had been thinking through, the past two weeks, was Palpatine’s intense interest in Anakin. An interest that stretched back over a decade, to his earliest days on Coruscant. An interest that had led to an intense, almost pathological loyalty--the same kind Anakin displayed towards everyone with whom he had bonded.

An interest that, given what Obi-Wan now knew, had had a very clear goal in mind.

He didn’t know exactly how close Anakin had come. He didn’t _want_ to know. But he could guess. And he had a feeling that his mistakes, especially in the early days, had opened the door. He wasn’t to _blame,_ of course, but there were cracks here, deep in the foundation of their partnership. Cracks that the two of them needed to repair, if they were to survive and complete the long, arduous mission that lay ahead of them.

“Anakin, I...” he started again, then stopped, not sure exactly what it was he needed to say. Other than too much to put into words. Especially so soon after--especially when he was still so raw.

_A process,_ he reminded himself. _It’s a process. Start with the basics._

“I think we’ve both--” He stopped. “I think we need to...there are things we have done, and _not_ done, that…”

Anakin looked up at him, uncertain. “Master?”

Obi-Wan, silver-tongued though he was under most circumstances, found himself at a complete and utter loss for words.

_Keep it simple. What is the single biggest problem here?_

Secrets.

Anakin had kept secrets from him. Important secrets. Life-changing secrets. And he’d had his reasons, of course. Understandable ones, from his own perspective, at least so far as Obi-Wan had guessed. But still secrets, forming those cracks that had nearly allowed--

_No. I do not want to think about that._

Besides, the problems weren’t _entirely_ on Anakin’s end. Obi-Wan knew full well that he had handled things badly, particularly in the beginning, when he had first taken Anakin as his apprentice. For understandable reasons, again, but the damage had still been done. And he had kept secrets of his own--though the potential consequences of his were not as grave, and he didn’t do it by choice, for the most part; more often constrained by duty. Still, the Rako Hardeen incident, in particular, weighed on him. On both of them.

“No more secrets,” he said. “That’s...please? From either of us. From now on.”

Anakin blinked, then nodded once. “No more secrets,” he promised, then continued, all in a rush, stumbling over his words. “I...I know that’s mostly been my fault, but I didn’t...I didn’t want to disappoint you. I was going to--I was _going_ to do it right, I _would_ have done it right, but then the War happened, and we couldn’t wait, because something might have _happened,_ and I couldn’t _leave,_ not until--”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan interrupted. “I’m not...I understand, at least so much as I can, why you made the choices you did. And I don’t want to--I don’t _blame_ you. I just want...we need to do _better_ by each other, in the future. And that means no more secrets. All right?”

“All right,” he said, after taking a moment to process that. “No more secrets, from now on.”

“Good,” he said.

Another silence fell between them; but a lighter one. They hadn’t _quite_ cleared the air, but they’d come as close to a direct apology for mistakes of the past as either of them was likely to, and they had resolved to do better in the future. They were, once again, on the same page. Side by side. United.

He would, he decided, stay here for another few days, before he took out one of Yoda’s targets. He wanted to make sure their new foundation was as secure as he thought it was, and start to build on it. _And spend more time getting to know Leia,_ he thought, glancing down at her fondly.

Anakin must have caught the thought, or the look, because he smiled and shifted just a little. “I don’t think it’ll wake her up if we move her. Want to hold her for a minute?”

“Yes,” he said. “Should I pick her up, or…?”

Anakin flexed the fingers on his flesh arm, considering. He hadn’t tried a full healing trance--probably not wanting to miss any time with Padme, then needing to sort things out with Master Yoda--but Obi-Wan knew he’d tried a few tricks to accelerate the healing process. So, as opposed to having only one functioning arm, he was closer to one and a half. “Yeah, that’s probably better.”

He nodded and carefully reached over to pick up the child. As Anakin had suspected, she didn’t stir.

And she was just as miraculous as she had been the first time he’d held her, if substantially quieter.

“I’m...glad you were there,” Anakin said, after a minute.

“Hmm?” Obi-Wan looked up at him.

“When she was born,” he clarified. “Since I couldn’t...you’re my brother, too, you know?”

“Oh,” he said, touched beyond speaking again. He hadn’t been quite sure how much of that conversation Anakin had remembered--he’d been barely conscious, after all, drugged and in pain…

“I remember enough,” Anakin said. “The important parts. That was an important part.” He cleared his throat, and flexed his hand again, before grinning up at him. “Anyway, I think Uncle Obi-Wan has a nice ring to it. Yeah?”

He pretended to think that over for a minute, but really, the answer was obvious. He grinned back. “You know, I think it does.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! I will be on time next week, I promise.
> 
> One more chapter, and then the Aftermath/Polis Massa arc is done, and we move on to other things! The cast will...like...double at that point. Should be fun!
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me!
> 
> ~shadowsong


	10. Part 1, Chapter 10

Overall, Darth Sidious was pleased with how well the last two weeks had gone. The civil government was firmly in his grasp. There had been no overt resistance to his takeover, and he knew who the dissenters in the Senate were. He could monitor them, in the months and years to come. Some, of course, he would terminate at the earliest opportunity. But some he would leave alive, as bait for future resistance movements. So long as he knew who the traitors were, after all, they presented no serious threat.

And the Jedi--ah, the Jedi had been _crushed._ True, some had slipped through the cracks, but he guessed there were less than a hundred survivors. And that was a _generous_ estimate, including those who had been confirmed as injured critically enough to be presumed dead, though no remains had been found. Even Yoda had slunk away in defeat, to keep his head down and lick his wounds. He was, perhaps, still alive, and Sidious would of course keep a wary eye out for any signs the little troll had resurfaced, but he doubted it would happen.

His Separatist puppets, too, had been neatly disposed of. Sidious had dispatched Tarkin to handle the mop up operation on Mustafar--not his first choice, to be sure, but a promising asset for the time being--and had received final confirmation of Tarkin’s success this morning.

The Clone Wars were over.

He had _won._

It hadn’t been a total victory, unfortunately--or, at least, not the one he’d envisioned when he’d authorized his own kidnapping and initiated his endgame--but more than sufficient. A few pieces were missing, a few loose ends left dangling, but not enough to truly detract from his victory.

The biggest of those pieces, of course, was Skywalker. He was the one that rankled the most, too. Sidious still wasn’t quite sure exactly _how_ that had gone wrong.

The boy had been perfectly prepared--thirteen years of effort poured into his intended apprentice; gaining his trust; carefully building and aggravating stress points in his psyche; and then applying _just_ the right amount of pressure at _just_ the right moment to break him in _just_ the right way.

There was, he admitted, a _slight_ possibility that he had overplayed his hand. But, really, Skywalker hadn’t left him much choice but to risk that. It was remarkable, that the boy could be so intelligent in so many ways and yet completely _miss_ Sidious’ increasingly obvious hints. Most targets would have caught on _weeks_ earlier.

Of course, he had tailored his approach with that in mind, so he doubted _that_ had been the problem.

Perhaps he had _under_ sold it? No, that wasn’t it, either. Skywalker had known, with perfect clarity, everything he stood to gain from turning--and everything he would lose, should he fail to do so. Sidious would not have allowed the boy to leave his office, had he not been absolutely certain of that fact.

From the time the boy had fled, the next hour had gone exactly as Sidious had planned. Word had reached Coruscant that Kenobi had succeeded in killing Grievous (not the ideal outcome--he’d rather hoped _both_ of them would die--but Kenobi’s absence had served its purpose). And then the Jedi had attacked him, as he had known they would.

That, he thought, was where things had, if briefly, gone off track.

He had drawn out his duel with Mace Windu as long as he could. He had known, of course, that events would quickly overtake him once they were finished; and that Skywalker had to be complicit from the beginning. So he had waited, prepared to give him that final nudge over the edge.

But the boy had not come.

There had been a moment, towards the end, where Windu had shown a rare spark of insight, and deduced what Sidious had been waiting for.

“He’s not coming,” the Jedi had spat. “You _lose._ ”

That first statement, unfortunately, had proved true.

The second--well.

Windu had gone out the window, and Sidious had had to make some very quick decisions. Regrettably, he had been forced to sacrifice all the effort he’d put into Skywalker. There was no time to retrieve him before initiating Order 66. He could not delay the command; the Jedi would all too quickly notice something was wrong and manage to regroup.

And, having failed to secure Skywalker’s allegiance before the Purge, his would-be apprentice was lost to him forever. Sidious had known that. Even if the boy had survived--which was unlikely--he would have snapped to his previous loyalties with all the tenacity he could. Sidious would never again have the boy’s confidence. Pity.

Skywalker had fought valiantly to the last, of course. The report from the clones who had attacked the Temple--Skywalker’s own men, as they were stationed on Coruscant at the time in preparation for Sidious’ planned version of events--painted a very clear picture of how brutal the eventual kill had been.

The boy’s body was among those that had not yet been recovered, and Sidious did acknowledge the possibility of his survival. A sort of connection had been forged between the two of them over the years. His awareness of it was...somewhat muddled, at the moment. Difficult to tell if it had truly snapped, or was merely damaged or forsaken.

On the other hand, his body had fallen from the Temple into the city’s underlevels. If he _had_ been killed, the chance of his remains ever being recovered was vanishingly small.

So, another thing to watch for. But if Skywalker did resurface, Sidious was confident he could be handled. After all, for all the boy’s power and potential, he was still a mere Jedi, and a young and inexperienced one with that.

_Kenobi,_ though, might prove a problem. Among the known Jedi survivors, he presented the greatest threat to Sidious’ plans. A half-decent strategist, for a Jedi, with a talent for persuasion that might well allow him to win allies to his cause. And he was far likelier to resurface than the others.

Well, if and when that happened, Sidious would be prepared. Once he had acquired a new apprentice, he would train that being with that particular goal, among others, in mind.

Or, perhaps, simply lock Kenobi in a room with Maul, solving several problems at once.

He dismissed that difficulty from his mind for the time being. There was very little he could do about it until Kenobi resurfaced.

More pressing was his unfortunate lack of an apprentice. Not that he needed one for the traditional reason, but rather as an extension of his will. Tarkin and the others could only do so much. He needed another Sith Lord.

Taking Maul back was out of the question, of course. The Zabrak had failed him, rather spectacularly. There were no second chances among the Sith.

And Sidious had, regrettably, been far too confident of his success with Skywalker. He had neglected to seek out a suitable backup.

This was not a mistake he would repeat.

He had considered Skywalker’s child, of course. Disadvantages of starting with an infant aside, he was guaranteed a powerful apprentice from that quarter. But Senator Amidala’s office had released a statement that she had suffered a miscarriage, and would remain in seclusion on Naboo for a month while she recovered. Possibly a hoax, but it would be easy enough to confirm, once he discovered the location of the infant’s tomb.

As for Amidala herself--well, he would see how the loss of her husband and child affected her. If, as he thought reasonably likely, her grief cooled that irritating fire at her core, he would allow her to live. Like some of her former allies in the Senate, she would continue to be a magnet for conspiracy. Useful, so long as her spirit was dampened enough that she wouldn’t act on them.

And, if not, the tragic demise of the Senator of his own home planet would provide useful political capital.

But, in the meantime, he had an Empire to run and a new apprentice to acquire. And these few imperfections, irritating though they were in what _should_ have been an absolute triumph, were minor when compared to his success. He could attend to them in the fullness of time.

He steepled his fingers and allowed himself to savor the moment with a smile. He had accomplished virtually everything he had wanted to. He had _won._ Power--absolute power--was _his._

Victory had never been so sweet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this concludes the Polis Massa/Aftermath arc!
> 
> Next week starts the Homecoming arc, which doubles the size of our cast as Our Heroes learn to navigate their new normal and get to work, while taking care of the babies.
> 
> Thanks so much for sticking with me so far! <3
> 
> ~shadowsong


	11. Part 2: Homecoming, Chapter 1

If Bail could have managed it, he would’ve slipped into Aldera City under cover of darkness, made his way unseen into the palace by one of the hidden exits he’d used to sneak out as a child, and spent a few private hours reuniting with Breha before he had to resume his public persona and reassure his people; a tall order, when he could barely reassure himself.

It might have been better that way for reasons other than his own weariness and selfish needs. Briefing Breha on everything that had happened--or, at least, everything that he knew--before any public statements or commitments were made would have helped. They had a long, complicated path ahead of them, and starting it with unclear objectives was potentially dangerous.

Still, there wasn’t much help for it. He was who he was. Short of borrowing one of Padme’s tricks and finding a body double, there was no real way for him to enter the city incognito. Besides, after his brief disappearance, it was probably better to keep his movements as open as possible, at least for the time being. Act as if he had nothing to hide, and hope that that would discourage anyone from looking.

So, despite his inclinations, he arrived in broad daylight, and went out to reassure the crowds that had gathered near the spaceport to meet him.

_ More have come than usual, _ he thought, scanning his gathered people.  _ But they’re quieter. Restive. Unsure. _

No one knew what to make of what had happened lately, and he felt a brief stab of guilt at the thought. It was his duty, not only to represent Alderaan to the rest of the galaxy, but to explain and represent what was going on in the rest of the galaxy to his people. He had gotten too caught up in the rush of events. He had failed them in that.

_ And I’m not going to do much better now, _ he acknowledged in the privacy of his own mind. He had to balance the need to reassure them with the need to placate any of Palpatine’s eavesdroppers. And, unfortunately, the second goal had to take priority. Until he and Padme could build their coalition, until the Jedi could build momentum, he had to maintain his position. He had to play his part.

He held up a hand for attention, as a helpful staff member passed him a microphone. “My people,” he began, then drew on all the oratorical skill he possessed to make platitudes sound like promises. “Many things have changed, in the capital and in the galaxy as a whole. One thing I can and will confirm for you is that the war with the Confederacy of Independant Systems has ended. Count Dooku, General Grievous, and the majority of the Separatist Council have been killed, and their congress has been dissolved.” There had been no one left to make a formal surrender, or he would have thrown that in, too.

A low murmur spread through the assembled citizens at his announcement, and he waited for it to run its course.

“There are questions that remain unanswered,” he continued. “Among them, how to reintegrate those systems that seceded, and what will become of the clone soldiers. I will be returning to the capital soon, to aid my fellow Senators in the effort to find answers for those questions.” Along with others that he didn’t dare mention just yet. But what he’d said should be safe enough.

He thought he detected a faint note of relief in the response.  _ If only because I’ve let them know that  _ our _ Senate won’t be disbanded. That some level of democracy will still persist, despite what Palpatine has done. _

It wasn’t--yet--a lie. But he doubted the Senate would last any longer than it took Palpatine to replace it with some other bureaucracy, one he controlled completely. It would be a gradual process, probably, but there would come a time when the last vestiges of the Republic he had spent his entire adult life serving were gone.

_ Unless we can depose him before that happens. _

“As I said,” he told them, pushing that worry aside for now, “many things have changed. And we will likely see more changes in the coming weeks and months, as the galaxy as a whole returns to peace and stability.”

And here came the tricky part--how to phrase what he next said to accomplish both goals of this impromptu speech, without limiting any future direction he and Breha might take. “I ask you to remember that we of Alderaan have long existed as a shining example of peace for our neighbors. The galaxy has changed, but that role we have played need not follow suit. A new age has begun, and it is my hope that Alderaan will continue to serve as a beacon, a guide towards peace--” he stopped himself before adding ‘and liberty,’ just barely “--in the galaxy.”

He stepped back from the microphone to somewhat ragged applause. He  _ hoped _ he had pulled it off--that Palpatine’s eyes and ears would take that as Bail urging his people to keep their heads down, and support the new regime. All in the name of the ‘peace’ the Emperor had promised them.

But that those who valued freedom, and justice-- _ true _ peace--would read it as a reassurance that he had no intentions of betraying those ideals, despite the dangers of the New Order. Or even, perhaps, as a call to action. Covert, perhaps, but action nonetheless.

Only time would tell.

For now, the crowd at least seemed mollified. Some of the tension in the air had dissipated. He was able to make his way over to the waiting speeder and back to the palace without any further incident.

Of course, once he was  _ there _ , he had to provide the same reassurances to members of the planetary government. And they, unlike the crowd at the spaceport, would be able to ask questions.

He made it through as best he could, careful to weigh every word he said and promise nothing other than his diligence and to remain in close contact in the future.

With the expertise gained in a lifetime of politics, he dodged any and all questions about where he’d been since the Republic had fallen.

Finally, after close to an hour, he managed to catch Breha’s eye through the crowd. She nodded once and then, with the firm serenity he so adored, summarily ended the session.

Without waiting for the courtiers to dissipate, she crossed the room to claim his arm and all but drag him somewhere more private.

Not that he objected, of course.

As soon as the door to their rooms slid shut behind them he pulled her close, burying his face in her veiled hair and just breathing her in for a moment. It had been--hard; harder than he’d been able to acknowledge until now, to watch Padme and General Skywalker clinging to each other and their children. Finally allowed to be open about their relationship, if only with their closest friends and allies, and yet--

Bail thanked every god he’d ever heard of that he and Breha had never had to endure  _ that _ . And never would. For all that their respective duties sometimes required long separations, they could be--and usually were--in constant contact, even when they couldn’t touch.

And for all the--for all the children he and Breha had lost, for all he envied Padme her twins, to have to give a child up the way they had, to know their was far away and have to  _ pretend _ the child was dead…

No, he didn’t really envy them that much after all.

Breha curled into him, holding on almost as tight. She had been worried about him; he knew that much. They’d spoken--briefly, and very circumspect--while he was en route here, and while she hadn’t exactly  _ reproached _ him for not contacting her sooner…

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I’m sorry.”

She nodded, then pulled back. “Tell me?” she asked.

He took her hand and guided her over to a seat, and told her  _ everything _ .

Everything he’d seen, everything he’d done, since C-3PO had called him to Padme’s apartment on the night the Temple fell. What he and Padme and the Jedi had started. The lies they had woven to protect the children.

Even eliding over the more gruesome details--she didn’t need to be haunted by the images of dead children on the Temple steps, or the sound of what he had been so sure were Skywalker’s dying breaths--it took him over an hour.

Breha, dark eyes solemnly fixed on him, heard him out without interrupting. When he finished, she quietly asked, “It’s really that bad?”

He nodded.

She closed her eyes and took a breath. “So, we’re still at war.”

“I don’t know that we’ll be able to avoid it,” he admitted. “ _ Technically _ , there are legitimate, nonviolent ways to remove him from power…”

“But he controls all those avenues,” she finished for him.

“Yes,” he said. “It won’t be open war for a while, though,” he added. “Or at least I don’t think it will. And maybe--maybe the Jedi, with our help, will be able to end this before it comes to that.”

She shook her head. “We can’t count on that. They are too few, and the problem too large.” She opened her eyes again.

“I know,” he said.

“What, exactly, will we be doing?” Breha asked.

“My role, I think, will be mostly coordinating,” Bail said. “I have contacts I plan to cultivate in the Senate, and a few outside the official power structures.”

“We’re well-positioned for that,” she said thoughtfully. “We’ve always been fairly open to immigration. If I relax those regulations a little farther, as a show of faith in the new regime’s ability to keep the peace…”

“We can move people in and out.” It would make his work easier, for sure. It also put his home and family at a greater risk than he’d wanted, but--

As she’d said, the problem was too large to hold back. Besides, Breha made her own choices. She always had. And she was  _ good _ at this--part of what had freed him up to focus on diplomacy, on his work in the Senate, was her sheer genius for administration and organization. He was the diplomat, she was the leader. Between the two of them, they had kept Alderaan safe and strong, despite the troubled times.

“And supplies,” she said. “I’ll have to review a few things, but we’ll do whatever we can to support your revolution.”

He smiled at her, and brushed a strand of her hair aside. “I’m sorry, Breha. I wish I had brought better news home to you. And I’m sorry for committing to this--committing _ both _ of us to this, before discussing it with you.” Because, practically speaking, he wouldn’t be able to do this without her. Once he’d gotten involved, it was only a matter of time before his wife did, as well.

She shook her head, and smiled wryly up at him. “You can’t help the news you brought. Only what you do with it. And what you’re doing is  _ exactly _ what you should be doing.”

He kissed her softly. “Thank you,” he said.

She rested her head on his shoulder. “You probably shouldn’t tell me everything,” she said, with a faint hint of regret. “I should have some level of plausible deniability. Just in case.”

He nodded, leaning his head against hers. “All right. Will you trust me to decide how much to tell you?”

“Of course,” she said. “But Bail--don’t do this again, all right?” She pulled away to look at him, to meet his eyes, to make sure he understood her. “Don’t disappear on me like that. We can come up with a code word, for when you have to be out of contact, but don’t--I worry. And I’ll worry more now, I know it.”

“I won’t,” he promised. “Don’t disappear on me, either, all right?”

She rolled her eyes. “Says the man who sneaks half-dead fugitives off Coruscant, and forms conspiracies with the most wanted men in the galaxy, and--”

He held up his hands, smiling despite himself. “I take your point, my love. I’m the reckless one.”

“No,” she said, a smile quirking at the corner of her mouth. “Just the diplomat. And spy, apparently.”

“At times, they’re much the same thing.” He kissed her forehead lightly. “But I mean it,” he added. “It’s...it’s very important to me, knowing that you’re here.”

“Where else would I be?” she asked. “You’re the diplomat. I’m the administrator. Remember?”

“Humor me?”

“Of course, love,” she said. “I won’t disappear. I’ll be here, waiting for you. Always. Just so long as you remember to come home.”

“I will,” he promised, pulling her close to lean against him. “Always.”


	12. Part 2, Chapter 2

There was an art to going unrecognized.

Having a decoy helped, of course. At least half of what Padme had gotten away with over the years, she’d only managed because she’d had an airtight alibi with dozens of witnesses. But being in two places at once only got her so far.

It had been easier when she’d had the shell of makeup she’d worn as Queen to hide behind. But harder didn’t mean impossible, and makeup was still her friend.

For her re-entry into Theed, two weeks after her official arrival, some judicious use of paint and an easily removeable hair dye added a good ten years to her age. Having Luke with her provided additional camouflage, as did a volunteer field nurse uniform she’d acquired with Bail’s help.

Even if someone suspected that the Senator Amidala who had returned to Naboo in haste following the tragic loss of a pregnancy no one officially knew about, no one would look twice at a weary, near-forty nurse carrying a small infant.

Clearing customs had worried her at first--the spaceport staff would look at her more closely, and she wasn’t entirely sure her hastily-assembled fake papers would pass muster. But Luke had chosen an exactly perfect moment to wake up hungry, and the harried official who drew the short straw just wanted the screaming infant as far away from him as possible, as fast as he could manage.

“Thank you, sweet boy,” she whispered, once they were clear and she’d found a suitably secluded place to feed and soothe him. “Never thought I’d say that, but  _ thank  _ you for crying.”

From the spaceport, Padme knew exactly where she was going. It was a risk, going to a neighborhood this close to the palace, but she didn’t have much choice. She  _ had _ to go here first, and make sure Luke was settled and safe, before she could do anything else.

“Five thirty-nine, five forty-one, five forty--there.” She shifted Luke a little. “Here we are, sweet boy. Ready to meet one of your aunties?”

He blinked up at her, and made a confused sort of gurgle.

“Well, at least you’re not talking back yet.” She tapped on the door, in a specific pattern she’d long had memorized but hadn’t actually  _ used _ in years.

It opened right away.

“Oh, thank the Force.” Sabe’s voice, warm and familiar, underscored by the distinctive sound of a blaster uncocking, was as welcome as the hug that quickly followed. Unlike Padme’s, her Theed accent was natural. When constructing the layers of persona for Amidala, all the little details that would turn a slightly self-righteous, idealistic, reckless teenager into a Queen, Padme had spent hours locked away with her friend, learning how to mimic the accent almost exactly.

“Come in, before someone sees you,” she added. Without waiting for an answer, her hand closed on Padme’s wrist and she pulled her through.

“I’ve missed you, too,” Padme said.

“We’ve been worried,” Sabe said, clearing a space on the couch for Padme to sit before pouring shuura juice for the two of them. “I don’t think anyone outside the inner circle has figured Motee out, but...well, we don’t like not knowing where you are.”

“I know. And I’m sorry. I was…” She hesitated, not sure how much she should risk saying. She trusted Sabe implicitly, but--well, walls had ears. Especially nowadays.

“It’s all right,” she assured her. “You’re home safe now, that’s what matters.” She returned to the sitting room and pushed a half-disassembled rifle aside to make room for the glasses and a plate of cookies.

Padme wasn’t quite willing to let go of Luke to take her cup. She was pretty sure Sabe would forgive her rudeness on that count. “I didn’t have a way to send a message. I came here first. I thought about Varykino, but I need...there’s a few things I need to take care of before Motee and I switch back.”

“I see,” she said, with a significant look at Luke.

“Yeah,” she said, holding him close and considering how to explain.

On the other hand, maybe she wouldn’t really  _ need  _ to. Sabe hadn’t worked directly for Padme, in years, but the two of them could still read each other almost more easily than they could read themselves. She had to know what Padme was thinking. Despite a growth spurt at sixteen that left her towering almost twelve centimeters over Padme, Sabe had technically remained as a handmaiden for Padme’s entire tenure as Queen. She just didn’t really work as a decoy anymore, transitioning into a close advisor, sounding board, confidante, and more traditional bodyguard.

After Padme’s term was up, Sabe had decided to continue working for the palace rather than following her to the Senate--primarily in an advisory capacity, training Padme’s successors’ handmaidens; but also working in intelligence. Of all the people Padme knew and trusted, Sabe was the one she knew could help her pull off this deception.

And, sure enough, “I’m guessing you’ve already handled the raw records?” Sabe asked.

“The medical records, the text, the data--yes,” Padme said, relaxing a little when she didn’t have to explain. Of course, her official miscarriage  _ had  _ already been announced, and Sabe was smart enough to fill in the blanks when she showed up with an infant who was very much alive. Still, it was a relief. After all, the fewer times she had to go over this, the less risk someone might overhear, or she might slip up in the wrong context and put her family in danger. “But I’m concerned that might not be enough.”

“You want me to help you fake a body.”

She nodded.

Sabe leaned back, tapping the edge of her glass thoughtfully. “Yes, I can manage that.”

“The body will be a little girl,” Padme said. “I have a sample for you to use, for genetic purposes.” Coming from Leia--a further layer of secrecy.

Her eyebrows shot up. “So...twins, then?”

“Yes. You can’t tell  _ anyone _ , Sabe. You’re one of about ten people who know.” Which was a lot more than she  _ wanted _ , but they couldn’t exactly hide from the doctors at Polis Massa. And, once they’d decided to trust them at all, it was too late to hold back. At least they didn’t actually know who she and Anakin were. She thought. She  _ hoped _ .

“Of course,” Sabe said. “And I won’t ask where your daughter is. Safer for all of us that way, I would think.”

Padme nodded. “I know where she is, that’s enough.” Well, she didn’t know  _ exactly _ , not for sure. She and Anakin had deliberately avoided confirming that--where he would go with Leia, once he was cleared to leave the medcenter. Like Sabe said, that was safer.

True, she knew where Leia was  _ now _ . Anakin would have to stay at Polis Massa for a while, recovering. But she knew he wouldn’t  _ keep _ his head down for longer than he absolutely had to. She gave her husband about two to three months,  _ maximum _ , before he was healed enough to get restless. It all depended how persuasive Obi-Wan was. When he inevitably got moving again, she did have a couple ideas, where he might go to ground. Somewhere safe, some _ one _ safe, where he could leave their daughter for a few days while he ran missions.

But she hadn’t asked, and he hadn’t offered. She trusted him to keep her daughter safe, and tried not to think about them too much.

“So, after you’ve made all of this public…” Sabe said. “What do you intend to do with him?”

“Adopt him, eventually.” Padme was pretty sure this scheme fell into the category of ‘just crazy enough to work.’

“Clever,” Sabe said, with a small, pointed smile. “So, you need papers forged marking him out as a war orphan?”

“Exactly,” she said. “Everything has to look completely above-board,  _ completely _ legal. His false identity has to be airtight.”

“It will be,” she assured her. “When do you plan on doing this?”

Her heart ached at the thought, and she held Luke a little closer. “I don’t...I don’t know. As soon as I can, but...I don’t want...it has to look natural, right?”

Sabe touched her hand briefly. “Of course. But...you know, different people have different responses to grief.”

She blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Honestly, you could probably pull it off right after your mourning period is over,” she said. “You loved your daughter, you  _ wanted _ your daughter, and every morning you woke up without her was unbearable. So, you turned to an old friend for help in finding a suitable child. A little boy, so you could distinguish them, so you wouldn’t project and accidently hurt the child you have, but the hole in your heart would still be filled.”

That was…

Padme almost burst into tears with relief. She’d thought she would have to wait a  _ year _ , to avoid suspicion. But Sabe was right. She could sell that story, even to Palpatine. She wouldn’t even have to lie about the hole in her heart--Anakin and Leia were alive, but so far away, and she had no way of knowing when she’d see them again.

“Thank you,” she said, with feeling. “ _ Thank _ you.”

Sabe smiled. “It’s why I’m here, Padme. To provide an outside perspective.”

She squeezed her hand. “I know. I was too close to this one, I was...how long do you need?”

“Two weeks, give or take.” Sabe paused. “You should bring Sola in on this part as well. Whether or not you tell her everything.”

True. Trust Sabe to think of those details--Sola’s first husband had been a litigator; she still had contacts in the field. Everyone Padme knew had worked for her office, not for her. Plus, she’d need someone with the right expertise, to ensure minimal complications with Luke’s adoption.

On the other hand…

Padme winced a little. “How mad at me are they? Sola and my parents.”

“I wouldn’t say  _ mad _ ,” Sabe said carefully. “But they’re...not very happy, that you hid the pregnancy from them. Or that you refused to come home, or let them visit you at Varykino.”

She bowed her head. “I’ll make it up to them. Somehow.” She knew the story she’d tell, of course. The one she’d always planned on telling, only now it was simpler and sadder. The baby’s father had to know first, of course, and now…

It had gotten so easy, over the years, to lie to her parents. She made herself think about it,  _ feel _ the guilt every time she did it anyway. It was necessary, and it wouldn’t stop her, but she  _ needed _ that. It kept her human, no matter how deadly the politics around her got.

“I’m sure you will,” Sabe said. “Just...be prepared, when you do see them.” Luke shifted in Padme’s arms, yawning, and both women smiled. “I think this little treasure might help. Especially with...with the story you’re telling.”

“Yeah,” Padme said, then hesitated. “Do you--do you think it’d be safe, to keep him with me at Varykino until everything’s straightened out? Or…”

Sabe thought for a long moment. “It would probably be safer to establish his identity somewhere besides on paper. I’m sorry, Padme.”

She blinked back stubborn tears. “Right. Of course. I know that.” She’d just hoped, with everything else--

_ It’s only for a couple weeks, _ she reminded herself.  _ Just until Sabe can get the paperwork together. And she’ll make sure no one  _ else _ dares to try and adopt him in the meantime. _

“Why don’t you stay here tonight?” Sabe said, picking up on her distress. “We can work out the details tomorrow.”

Padme nodded. “Thank you,” she said again. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Sabe set her glass down and folded her hands carefully, bowing from the waist in an abbreviated full-court Presentation obeisance, and murmured the oath she’d sworn over a decade ago, when Padme had first become queen. “It is my honor and privilege to serve.”

The ritual helped. Padme felt her spine straightening. “It is our duty and fortune to receive your service.”

Just like that, Padme’s arm of the movement she and Bail and the Jedi had started began to take shape. She would fight the way she always had, with words and secrets and painted faces; with Sabe and her other handmaidens at her side, watching her back,  _ protecting  _ her.

And protecting Luke.

Right now, nothing else mattered. Tomorrow, over breakfast, she and Sabe would make larger plans.

Tonight, though, despite receiving Sabe’s renewed oath, she was just a woman in her friend’s house, securing her son’s future.

She smiled, and relaxed. “So, would you like to properly meet Luke now?”

Sabe didn’t smile often, but when she did--like now--it put the stars to shame. “I would love to meet your son.”


	13. Part 2, Chapter 3

It had been six weeks since the Temple had burned around him, and Anakin was more than ready to leave Polis Massa and get back to the fight.

Well, all right, _technically_ , he hadn’t been “officially” cleared to leave yet, but that was a minor detail as far as he was concerned. He felt fine, most of the time. He could breathe more or less normally again; his flesh arm, while the grip was still a little weaker than he liked, was out of its cast and functional; he no longer got dizzy when he stood up too fast. Everything else, he could push through in the field as easily as in the medcenter.

Maybe even easier. At least out there, he wouldn’t have well-meaning doctors and med droids getting upset when he tried to run through basic conditioning exercises without their approval. The droids, he could (and did) deactivate, but when one of the Kallidahin caught him, it was a little more complicated. Watching them flail a little in their concern would almost be funny, he reflected, if they didn’t keep trying to _sedate_ him.

And...all right, he would admit he wasn’t sleeping very well. But that didn’t mean he liked being sedated, or was willing to put up with it. He’d spent an entire _week_ unconscious. That was more than enough. Besides, he could only sleep when Leia did, which was about two hours at a time on average. That was, he was pretty sure, a normal part of raising a baby. So, even if he hadn’t been having nightmares, he’d be going short. Not that anyone knew about those, thank the Force.  He hadn’t told anyone--not even Obi-Wan. _Which doesn’t count as keeping secrets,_ he told himself. _He has enough to deal with without worrying about my problems. Besides, he needs me to be okay. That’s what he said, right?_

At least the nightmares weren’t about the future anymore. He’d take these over visions of Padme dying any day.

 _Because you’re selfish, broken,_  a failure _\--a terrible Jedi, terrible Chosen One, you never_ learn--

He’d gotten better at shutting those guilt spirals down, too. A little bit. Mostly.

Leia helped. She picked up on it, at least when it got really bad, and started crying. Over the past few weeks, he’d gotten to tell the difference between that cry--the one he privately translated as ‘Daddy, stop whining’--and when she was hungry, or tired, or needed to be changed. That one, though, was the worst, because it was all his fault, and he knew it. He was getting better at picking up on it himself before she had to, and shoving it aside like the Jedi he was supposed to be. And he’d _keep_ getting better, because she deserved that from him.

Some days were worse than others. On those days, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t have made it as far as he did if he didn’t have her. Especially now that Obi-Wan was in and out, running missions (without him).

It wasn’t that he was jealous, exactly. Just...frustrated. He was meant for _doing_ things, not sitting and waiting for Obi-Wan to come by and update him on everything that was going on.

Especially when most of the news was...not good. The Chancellor’s regime was organized, and he had an army--two things that their resistance didn’t have yet. Obi-Wan was doing what he could, but he was a cup of water flinging himself onto a blazing inferno.

And Anakin was doing _nothing_ to help.

He felt useless--and, worse than useless, _powerless_ , unable to do anything but watch the world continuing to crumble around him. Especially when it was _all his fault_ anyways.

 _Stop it,_ he reminded himself.

Easier said than done.

Today, though, things were looking up. The Kallidahin had dug up a _ship_ for him--he didn’t ask where; he didn’t especially care. It was a decent size, probably big enough for him and Leia to live on more or less full-time at least for the next couple years; damaged, but mostly internally--none of the repairs to restore basic functionality would require any heavy lifting, just a lot of time-consuming detail work. And the improvements he already had half-planned in his head would need parts he couldn’t get here, anyway.

The point was, all he had to do was fix it, and he’d be able to leave whenever he wanted. And he was _good_ at fixing things.

(He was pretty sure this had been Obi-Wan’s idea, actually, but he wasn’t going to complain or ask, in case they decided to take it away.)

So he’d packed up Leia and everything the two of them were likely to need for the day and headed down to the hangar to get started. First thing he did, he found a safe place to set his daughter, where he could keep an eye on her while he worked. _This is gonna be harder when she starts crawling. ...I’ll worry about that when we get there. Focus on right now, don’t dwell on the past or the future, or I’ll start spiraling again. Just...fix the ship._

“All right, princess,” he said, once he had her settled as best he could. “Daddy’s got some work to do, but I’m right here, okay?”

She just yawned.

He grinned, kissed her forehead very, very softly, and climbed into the engines to start rewiring them.

He spent the day like that, working on the ship, taking breaks whenever Leia needed something, until the chrono on the wall beeped, and he realized how late it was. Any minute now, one of the Kallidahin would show up and "gently suggest" that he eat something, get some rest.

 _And maybe they're not wrong,_ he decided. Not because he was dizzy or anything--he was _long_  past that stage of things. Still, he decided to stay in the hangar for a few minutes, even risking being fussed over, and just hold Leia and think through the rest of his repairs.

“Another week, I think, princess,” he told her. “Then we’ll get out of here, and I’ll be able to start making things right.”

...would he, though?

His heart sank a little, as the problem struck him. Forget keeping track of Leia once she started moving around under her own power, what was he supposed to _do_ with her when he was fighting? He sure as hell couldn’t carry her with him. And everyone he knew was either just as busy, taking just as many risks as he was, or…

 _Don’t. Don’t go there. Not right now. Think about the problem you_ can _solve, Anakin, not the dead._

Leia made an inquisitive noise.

“Just thinking,” he said, rocking her a little to soothe her. “Don’t worry, Daddy will figure something out. We’ll be okay.”

 _What about Ahsoka? I think she’s still...she wasn’t a Jedi anymore, right? So she should still be...she should still be okay. And she likes babies. She even liked that kriffing_ Huttlet _. But I don’t know where she is, or how long it’ll take to find her, or what she’s doing now, and…_

He could leave her here, maybe. Base himself off the asteroid, at least until Leia was old enough that keeping her with him wouldn’t be such a terrible idea.

Except--no, he couldn’t do that. There was a chance, however slim, that he could be tracked back here, which might lead the Chancellor back to Bail, which might lead him to Padme and Luke. Bad enough that Obi-Wan kept coming back and forth; if he did, too, someone would notice eventually.

“So, that’s too risky,” he said.

Leia blinked at him, and sighed.

“Hey, I told you, I’ll think of something. I’m pretty good at this. I think. Eventually. It just takes me a while.”

She made another little noise, then closed her eyes, drifting off to sleep.

He leaned back against the wall with a sigh of his own, trying to come up with something-- _anything_ \--else.

 _I could ask Bail or Obi-Wan for suggestions, I guess. But I don’t want them to think I think I can’t take care of her. I_ can, _just not while I’m fighting. That’s the only problem. I just need somewhere_ safe _for her to stay when she can’t be with me._

Besides, like he kept reminding himself, he couldn’t keep dumping his problems on Obi-Wan, hoping his master would solve them. Obi-Wan had his own problems. So did Bail.

There wasn’t anyone else. He didn’t _know_ anyone else, not who was still alive. Not who had any clue what to do with an infant.

Except--

Wait.

He closed his eyes, trying to see if there was another answer-- _any_ other answer.

He kept coming back to the same thought.

_I have a stepfather who raised a baby once._

It would mean going back home, back to Tatooine, which was the last thing--the _very_ last thing--he wanted for his daughter. And Tatooine wasn’t _safe_ . There were storms, and heat, and _Sand People_ \--

He shut down _that_ guilt spiral as fast as he could, and checked to make sure his distress, his ghosts, hadn’t woken her up.

She slept on. Good.

“But the Chancellor knows how I feel about it,” he said. “So he’d never--he’d never look for us there. And my...and Owen’s a good man, even if I don't think he likes me very much. And Mom…” His voice broke a little. “Mom loved them. Mom found them. She _trusted_ them. So I guess...I guess I can, too.”

It was an answer. It was even a _good_ answer. He just didn’t like it.

But he didn’t have a better one.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay, princess. Unless Daddy finds a better answer before then...once the ship is fixed, we’re going home.”


	14. Part 2, Chapter 4

Obi-Wan wasn’t used to working alone.

He’d done it on occasion, of course. He’d gone on a few solo missions as a senior Padawan of course, as well as several the first year or two after he was Knighted, when Anakin was too young to join him in the field. And, more recently, there had been the Rako Hardeen mess, and his last--his last trip to Mandalore.

But, with the exception of that last, he’d at least had the resources of the Temple to call on, even if he was technically alone in the moment.

This...this was another situation entirely. No resources, no backup--not until Anakin was back on his feet, or Obi-Wan managed to cobble together some sort of network of active field agents. Regrettably, he hadn’t yet made much progress on that front, though he had a few potential allies he could try to contact.

That was, in fact, what he’d been doing on this planet in the first place--at last on a mission that wasn’t merely sabotaging or destroying a half-built Imperial installation, but seeking out potential supply routes and intelligence sources. Eventually, he’d have a network of sorts to fall back on, one that he would link to the above-ground one Padme and Senator Organa were starting in the Senate.

But that was still a very long time ahead of him, with a great deal of hard work between now and then. Particularly since this particular trip hadn’t exactly yielded the results he’d been hoping for.

All of that probably went a long way to explaining how he’d managed to find himself in such trouble now. He’d been--not  _ expecting _ , nothing so conscious as that, but on a reflexive level, it seemed that it hadn’t quite hit him how alone he was. And he’d made a mistake, one that was easily covered by having a partner (or a squad of soldiers) at his back, or a safe place to retreat to. A mistake that, two months ago, would have been an embarrassing story for Anakin to mercilessly tease him about after extracting him; but in the new world had landed him trapped and under guard in a half-demolished building of uncertain provenance, at the edge of a somewhat disreputable town in the Outer Rim.

With no help coming.

_ I’ll have to be better than this, _ he told himself.  _ I  _ am _ better than this. This was just... _ sloppy _. _

He didn’t think they’d identified him as a Jedi, at least. Thank the Force for small favors. As soon as he’d realized how much trouble he was in, he’d stashed his lightsaber in a convenient hedgerow; a trick he’d remembered Lorana Jinzler pulling off what felt like an eternity ago.

_ I know we decided not to look for survivors, but would that group count? _ Something to consider, perhaps. Although it would tie up resources best used elsewhere for an unknown but lengthy amount of time, assuming they found Outbound Flight at all. Besides, the downsides to bringing Master C’Baoth, in particular, back might outweigh the potential benefits. Much like having Pong Krell back from the dead would.

_ Pleasant thought, that.  _ General  _ Jorus C’Baoth. _

He found himself, shamefully, more than a little grateful that Master C’Baoth had left the galaxy half a decade before the War had started.

_ Focus _ , he reminded himself. The solitude was, perhaps, wearing on him more than he’d been willing to admit. Until now, when it had tripped him up and he had no other choice.  _ Something to watch for, in the future. But first, I have to  _ get _ to that future. _

And he wouldn’t manage that if he didn’t solve his immediate problem.

He settled in to clear his mind of his anxieties, and his annoyance at himself, and sort through his options. His objective, at least, was simple enough--get out of this building with minimal fuss, get to his ship, get offplanet without acquiring any tails or trackers.

Step three would be the easy part. He might not be the pilot or mechanic Anakin was, but he had several tricks of his own.

Step two would be moderately more difficult, especially considering that he’d hidden his lightsaber in the opposite direction, but shouldn’t be too much trouble.

_ So. The hard part. Getting out. _

He closed his eyes and breathed, counting the potential adversaries. Fortunately, there were no other potential hostages to complicate matters. He had only himself to worry about.

_ Six. Not as bad as I thought. Three stationary, three moving. All solitary, but I don’t have time to study the movement patterns. I’ll have to chance it. All right. Disable the closest guard, acquire their weapon, just in case. But first, the door. _

He stood up and examined it closely--not a ray shield, fortunately, so he could brute force his way through it if he was unable to pick the lock.

_ Time consuming, and not exactly discreet. _ He pondered for a moment, then closed his eyes and felt for the guard’s mind. “You aren’t going to hear anything from this end of the passage,” he murmured. “If anyone contacts you, all is well. All is--”

Perfectly timed to contradict him, an explosion somewhere above them rocked the entire building, and Obi-Wan lost his grip on her thoughts.

“What the kriff--” He heard her fumble for her comm, but missed what she said in the noise of a second explosion, followed by rapid blaster fire.

He took advantage of the opportunity, using the Force to shove the door off its hinges. The chaos upstairs wasn’t  _ quite _ enough to cover the noise, but it took the guard a split second to bring her attention back to him, and he was already moving.

Obi-Wan slammed into her full-tilt, intending to tackle her to the ground and subdue her as quickly as possible. She kept her footing better than he’d been expecting, throwing an elbow at his face, which connected, and a knee that  _ just _ missed him. She was good.

He was better.

He dropped his weight, throwing her off-balance long enough to get behind her and establish a choke hold. “Don’t fight it,” he murmured, throwing a bit of a suggestion behind it. “Sleep.”

Seconds later, she went limp. He set her down carefully, propped against a doorway he was certain would remain stable even if there were more explosions, and grabbed her weapon and comlink before making his way towards the end of the passage.

He inched along, stretching his senses out ahead of him to identify the threat before he had to actually deal with it.  _ Not the Empire, _ he decided, after a few seconds.  _ I’m in danger, but not quite that much. Some third party then. Rival smugglers, most likely, or-- _

The door at the other end of the passage slid open, and Obi-Wan pressed himself as tight against the wall as he could.

“...prob’ly nothing worth nothing down here, anyway,” a voice grumbled.

A vaguely familiar voice.

“Captain still said check, so we’ll check,” another responded, sounding bored.

And then it clicked.

_ Well. This could be...very, very bad. Or it could not. _ He made sure the blaster was set for stun, and waited.

Two Weequay pirates at last came into view, and stopped, immediately turning their blasters on him.

_ Wait, _ the Force whispered.

He didn’t move.

“Wait a bit--I know you,” one of them said.

“Perhaps,” Obi-Wan said, leaving his borrowed weapon pointed at the ground.

The pirates exchanged a long look. “Come with us,” the second said.

He inclined his head. “Lead the way.”

“Hand over the gun first.”

He hesitated for half a second, then complied. If he did this right, he wouldn’t need it. If he did it wrong, it wouldn’t do much good. “There’s no reason we can’t be civilized about this,” he said.

“Shut up,” the first pirate said, taking the gun. “Come on then, move.”

He followed them back towards the still-open door, up a short flight of stairs, and into a slightly charred room where Captain Hondo Ohnaka was directing his crew in looting the place.

The pirate turned, and paused, visibly surprised. “Well, well, well, what do we have here?”

Obi-Wan smiled a little, and bowed. “Hondo. I must say, I wasn’t expecting to find you here.”

Hondo waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, you know me--always running about. But  _ you _ , my friend.” He eyed Obi-Wan. “I heard you were dead.”

“Oh, I’m not dead,” he said, releasing the pain of those memories into the Force as best he could. He considered for half a second, then amended, “Not...not yet, anyway.”

“So I see, so I see,” he replied. His pet Kowakian monkey-lizard leapt from the table to its usual place on his shoulder, eyeing Obi-Wan with considerable suspicion. “Well, I cannot deny it’s good to see you, Kenobi. You do always make things so  _ interesting _ .”

“Yes, well,” he said. “As I’m sure you can imagine, I am trying to...avoid that, at present.”

“Ah, yes, the Empire.” Hondo tutted faintly. “One hears such terrible things about them. But this was true of the Separatists, yes? And Black Sun, and Death Watch, and the Hutts...there will always be terrible people doing terrible things, my friend.”

“I think you’ll find the Empire is worse than anything you’ve faced before,” he said mildly.

Hondo considered that for a moment, then waved a hand dismissively. “Bah, what do I know of politics, anyway? I am just a simple businessman, trying to make his way in a cruel, uncaring galaxy,” the pirate said, turning with a flourish and stroking the monkey-lizard.

_ You know more than you claim, my clever friend, _ Obi-Wan thought.  _ You always have. _

And, sure enough, the pirate continued, his voice going harder. “But--in these troubled times, it is bad business, being friends with Jedi.”

_ Ah. _ Obi-Wan shifted his stance slightly, considering the two pirates closest to him, estimating how quickly he could get his hands on a blaster again.  _ I was hoping this wouldn’t turn ugly. _

He wasn’t in a very good position; at the entrance of a corridor that only went deeper into the complex, so far as he knew, facing an extremely clever adversary who  _ knew _ him and his tactics, outnumbered, without his lightsaber.

Still, he could fight through them. It would be a bloodbath for the pirates, and he most likely not escape unscathed himself, but he could do it.

“Of course,” Hondo said, “it has never been good business to be a Jedi’s  _ enemy _ , either.”

Some of the tension in the room lightened, but Obi-Wan didn’t relax. Not yet. “I have no interest in being your enemy, Hondo.”

“No, no, I imagine you don’t.” Another pause. “A good thing, then, that my unfortunate friends here had no interesting hostages in the basement, yes?”

_ Now _ he relaxed, and smiled again. “Indeed it is.”

The pirate on Obi-Wan’s left stiffened a little. “Captain--”

“No hostages, I said,” Hondo repeated, sharply.

Obi-Wan stepped out from between the two pirates, bowing politely. “Thank you, my friend,” he said. “I’ll be on my way.”

He sighed. “Such a pity,” he said, stroking his monkey-lizard again. “Another time, perhaps, I might have liked to see my poor, dead friend Kenobi again.”

He nodded. “Perhaps,” he agreed, then pulled his hood up to hide his face and headed for the exit.

Some of the pirates glowered at him, but none attempted to stop him.

Maybe this trip hadn’t been quite as unproductive as he’d thought. Hondo was--if not on their  _ side _ , at least no friend to the Empire.

_ Or he simply realizes that handing me over would get his crew wiped out as likely as rewarded, _ a small, cynical voice at the back of his head thought.

Either way, he would remember this. And someday, the next time the two of them met--

Well. Perhaps by then, he’d have the infrastructure he needed to bargain with the pirate. Hondo Ohnaka had been a surprisingly valuable ally in the past, after all.

The door was open, when the time came. There were few enough of those. Obi-Wan was glad to have found and unlocked this one again.


	15. Part 2, Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a note, there is a fair amount of discussion about dead babies in this chapter. There are no actual dead babies, but officially/on paper there is one, and Padme's family reacts accordingly.

After several long discussions with her handmaidens, Padme had decided not to stage an actual funeral for the child she had officially lost. It would raise too many questions--why she’d waited so long after her miscarriage, to start--and the performance she would have had to give, no matter how private they tried to make it, would have been excruciating. It was hard enough, having to walk away from her husband and daughter, knowing it would be years before she saw or held or spoke to them again, without having to visualize the worst possible alternative.

So, two days after she joined the others at Varykino, they simply buried the casket Sabe had provided in a corner of the estate. The tiny grave was visible from the balcony; from the same spot where she and Anakin had first kissed.

Padme wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about that. Especially when she stood on that balcony, looking down at the tiny, graceful headstone, which stood in stark contrast to her memories.

But whatever her personal feelings about the site, it was in a pretty, quiet, shady part of the garden, just in from the beach. Exactly the sort of place she might have chosen, if her lie had been true.

And when she was down there--she went every morning, especially now that her handmaidens had very carefully decreased their vigilance against the inevitable paparazzi--she almost found it comforting. A place where she could actually give voice to her grief.

She _was_ grieving; though it had taken her until the first morning after the burial, when she’d first slipped out and gone to lay flowers on her daughter’s false grave. Even if the people closest to her were still alive, she had still lost--so many friends. So many allies. An entire _world_ she’d believed in, from the moment she was old enough to believe in anything. She was grateful--beyond grateful--that it wasn’t worse, but the loss still burned her. Having that space to grieve helped her more than she’d realized she’d needed.

She wondered, once or twice, if Anakin or Obi-Wan had found a way to do the same thing. She hoped they had.

Her genuine grief had, she was slightly ashamed to admit, helped her in other ways, too. She knew that eventually reports and images of her solitary retreat would work their way back to Palpatine, for one thing. And, for another, it had mostly quieted her parents’ reproaches when she’d finally allowed them to visit, three days after Elle and Dorme had buried the casket.

“You should have told us,” Mom had said.

Padme had looked down at her hands. “I know. I know, I should have, but I couldn’t...I had to tell h-her father first, and…”

At least she hadn’t been lying about that part.

“Who is the father?” Dad had asked.

“He’s…” The catch in her throat there hadn’t been feigned, either. “He’s…”

“Oh, Padme…” Mom had said, and held her close.

She’d cried then. It had been...good, to feel like a little girl again, safe and warm and _comforted_ in her mother’s loving arms.

Mom had held her like that for a long time, stroking her hair and murmuring soft, gentle things, the words unimportant, blurring together. She and Dad hadn’t asked about her child’s father again.

Sola’s reproach, on the other hand, had been...harder. Harder to sidestep. Harder to face.

“You used to tell me everything,” she’d said over a cup of tea on the balcony.

Padme stared down at the grave, mostly to avoid looking at Sola. “Not everything.” Which was an evasion--and an awkward, clumsy one at that.

Sure enough, Sola refused to let her get away with it. “You know what I meant. _Personal_ everything.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I know it doesn’t mean much, but...I’m sorry.”

Sola sighed heavily. “I know you are.”

That had been three weeks ago. Her parents, Sola, and Pooja and Ryoo had stayed a few days, before going back to Theed, back to their lives.

Padme knew she should have done the same. Her official retreat was only supposed to be for a month, and she’d been away from Coruscant for over six weeks now. Bail had sent a message this morning, asking very carefully when she planned to return. And a part of her felt guilty for leaving him hanging like that--she was supposed to be helping him build a resistance coalition in the Senate, but…

_I can’t leave. Not until I have Luke, publicly and officially and legally,_ she decided.

Which would-- _hopefully_ \--be soon. Sabe had all the documentation for his identity established, and Sola was coming up again to visit, so she could get all the legal paperwork together. With her rank and connections, she could expedite the process and probably be back on Coruscant within another two weeks.

(It wasn’t fair, that she could do that and so many would-be parents and children had to wait for so long. Something to fix, once the galaxy made sense again.)

“Padme?”

Startled out of her thoughts, she turned to Sabe. “Is Sola here yet?”

She shook her head. “No, not yet.” She paused, studying her for a minute. “Are you all right?”

“I am,” she said, turning resolutely away from the grave. “Just...worried about the details, I guess.”

“All right.” She reached out and touched Padme’s arm, a comforting gesture. “This will work. I promise. Everything’s in order, you just need--”

“I know,” Padme cut her off. “But everything’s been going so _wrong_ lately. I can’t help but worry.”

She nodded. “Of course.” She glanced down into the garden, at the grave. “There’s something you should know.”

“Yes?”

She lowered her voice. “You know I set up cameras, right?”

Padme stiffened. Yes, she’d known, and that was at least half of why there even _was_ a grave, but that didn’t make it any easier to hear. “Someone visited.”

“Yes.” Sabe squeezed her hand. “They scanned it, and took a very small sample. The idea was, I think, to keep their desecration discreet.”

She took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “And?”

“Thus far, they seem satisfied.”

“That’s…something, at least.” She still wanted to strangle whoever had done it. Not Palpatine--though she knew he was ultimately responsible, she acknowledged that there were several people ahead of her in line for that--but the person who had actually violated something as sacred as an infant’s gravesite. For what? What could _possibly_ have motivated them? Money? Fear? Actual _loyalty_ to the tyrant?

“We’ll keep an eye on things,” Sabe said, watching her. “Dorme and I are putting together a contingency plan, in case your subterfuge fails.”

“Thank you,” Padme said. _But if we did all this work, told all these lies, for nothing…_

“It won’t,” Sabe said. “But we prepare anyway.”

“Milady?” Elle joined them with a brief bow.

“Yes, what is it?”

“Sola’s here,” she said. “Are you ready?”

Padme closed her eyes briefly, and squeezed Sabe’s hand one more time before letting go. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” she said. “Send her out here.”

Elle bowed again, and headed back into the house.

“Should I stay?” Sabe asked.

“No,” Padme said. “At least, not at first. It should be just me and Sola. I’ll call you in for the specifics once I’ve explained what I can.”

Sabe nodded, and followed Elle back into the house.

Padme turned back to watching the tiny grave, determinedly ignoring the mental images of someone _searching_ it.

_Forgive me,_ she said, to her absent daughter. _I know it’s not_ really _you in there, but...I’m so, so sorry._

She heard footsteps on the balcony behind her, but didn’t turn.

“Hey,” Sola said, coming to stand next to her.

“Hi,” she replied softly. “Thank you, for coming out to see me.”

“I’m always happy to see you, Padme,” she said. There wasn’t _exactly_ a reproach there, but it still stung a little bit.

_I’m not being fair to you. Or to Mom and Dad. But I_ have _to protect Ani and the children, and myself. I hope, someday, you’ll understand._

She took a deep breath, and turned away from the grave to look at her sister. “I...um.”

“What is it?” Sola asked.

“I…” She dropped her eyes. “I asked you here because...I wanted to see you, you’re my _sister,_ I love you, and we don’t--my work doesn’t…”

“Padme,” she interrupted, taking her hand and squeezing it briefly for reassurance. “It’s _okay._ You don’t have to apologize for your work. Not to me. And I know you’re going back to Coruscant soon.”

“Imperial Center,” she said, and hated herself a little for it. “We’re supposed to call it Imperial Center now.”

“Imperial Center,” Sola echoed, with a hint of distaste. “My point is--I know you’re getting back to work. And I think...it’ll be good for you. Instead of sitting here for weeks, brooding about…” Her eyes flicked over to the grave.

“That’s...that’s part of why I asked you to come here,” Padme said. “Not to say goodbye, not yet, I’m not...going back. I mean, I _am,_ of course, I’m not resigning or anything.” The Queen had offered her the option, given her recent personal tragedies, but she had declined. There was too much work to do. “Just…not quite yet. But you’re right. I need to stop…” She swallowed. “I need a favor.”

“Anything.”

“I need a litigator.”

Sola sat up straighter. “Don’t you have five or six already?” she asked.

Padme shook her head. “Senator Amidala has a handful of lawyers,” she corrected. “ _I_ don’t.” She didn’t always draw the line between the two so sharply, but it applied here.

“Right,” Sola said. “I can...I can give you a few names, but what…?”

“I’m adopting a baby.”

She stared at her for a long moment, then out at the grave, then back at her. “What?”

“I can’t…” She turned away, gripping the balcony railing tight. Remembering, in an almost tactile way, Anakin’s fingers ghosting along it, right before he’d leaned down and…

_Not now. Not here. Focus._

“I can’t keep...I can’t keep l-looking out at that...at her, every day, and thinking…” She felt tears pricking at the corner of her eyes. Not faked. Not forced. “There are...there are so many war orphans who need mothers, Sola, and I’m--”

There wasn’t a word for it. Not in Basic, not in the old Naboo dialect or the Gungan language or Rodian or any of the others she’d learned over the years.

There was no single word for a parent whose child had died.

Sola softened, and pulled her into a close, silent hug. It just made Padme cry harder.

“I get it,” she finally said. “Of course I’ll help. I can give you a couple names.”

“Thank you,” Padme said, sniffing a little. “I...there’s a little boy. Sabe--Sabe found him, when I st-started talking about this. He’s almost...he’s about... _she’d_ be his age. He has the sweetest blue eyes, you wouldn’t believe…”

“Of course you already have one in mind,” Sola said fondly, and with a hint of exasperation that made Padme smile, despite everything else that was going on.

_Probably why she said it out loud. I love you, Sola, and I’m so, so sorry I can’t show it properly._

“You always did go full-tilt at things, once you’d made up your mind,” Sola continued. “Have you met him, or just seen pictures?”

“Just pictures,” she said. Which was true, at least for the past few weeks. Since Sabe had placed him somewhere safe, to help establish his new identity. “I didn’t...I didn’t want to leave. Not yet. Not until I was ready to...to be the Senator again. And I didn’t want to…he shouldn’t have to deal with public scrutiny until this is a sure thing.”

“You’re still planning to go back?” Sola asked. “Even with a small child to look after?”

“I know it won’t be easy. But I’ll make it work,” she said. “I just...I _need_ this. And he needs a mother.”

“All right. I’ll help,” Sola said. “He can stay with me and the girls, if you don’t want to bring him to Cor--to Imperial Center.”

“Thank you,” Padme said, meaning it. She didn’t _plan_ on leaving Luke behind, ever, but...well, her work had _always_ been dangerous, and it would be even more so now. Besides, even with her handmaidens to help, infants were a _lot_ of work, on top of their regular duties. It might become necessary, to accept Sola's offer. And even if it didn't, she knew she'd need all the help she could get.

“We can work out the details after your adoption is finalized,” Sola said, hugging her again.

“Yeah,” she said, leaning into her sister for a minute.

“Does he have a name? Or have you picked one for him?”

“Luke,” she said. “His name--his name’s Luke. It’s what--” She cut herself off. The _last_ thing she wanted to do was talk about Ani. Not here, not now. _Especially_ not with Sola, who had figured out what was going on between them before even _they_ had.

“You’d already picked names,” was all Sola said, quietly and without judgment.

She nodded.

“Luke Naberrie,” Sola said. “It has a nice ring to it, I think.”

“It does,” Padme agreed.

They stood there quietly for a moment, looking down at the too-tiny grave in the garden.

“Thank you,” Sola finally said. “For trusting me with this.”

“I do trust you,” Padme said, her heart aching a little. “I always have. I just…”

“I know,” Sola said, then let her go and stepped away from the railing. “I’m going to make a few calls, find you that litigator. Then I want to see those pictures Sabe has. All right?”

She nodded. “Of course,” she said. “Thank you.”

Sola smiled a little, and went back into the house, leaving Padme alone once more.

True, her handmaidens were still with her, but...

_It's not for much longer,_ she reminded herself, looking out at the lake instead of the grave, Anakin’s phantom hands tracing the railing beside her. _Luke will be here soon._

He couldn’t come soon enough.


	16. Part 2, Chapter 6

The ship the Kallidahin had given Anakin was a little bit smaller than the  _ Twilight _ , and not as fast (not yet, at least--as soon as he could scavenge the parts he’d need, he would fix that), and it wasn’t all that well armed (another thing he planned on upgrading as soon as he could), but he’d made a point of installing the best shields he could, given the resources he’d had on Polis Massa.

But the ship, which he’d decided to call the  _ Waterfall _ , would get him from Point A to Point B. For now, that was the most important thing. True, the medics here wanted him to stay another week or so, didn’t think he was strong enough yet, but his ship was ready.  _ He _ was ready. It was time to go.

So he’d loaded himself and Artoo and Leia and their things onto the ship and left a message for Obi-Wan-- _ Went to the farm, will contact you soon _ . Which was vague enough to not screw him over if someone unfriendly came calling, but hopefully Obi-Wan would be able to figure it out.

Still, he hesitated for half a breath. His eight-week-old daughter had never seemed so small, or so fragile, as when he was taking her to one of the most dangerous planets in the galaxy on a ship that wasn’t  _ perfect  _ yet.

Which had led to him sitting in the cockpit, Leia in the special rig he’d set up in the copilot’s seat where she’d be secure, staring out of the hangar, the ship silent around him.

_ You know why you have to do this, _ he reminded himself.  _ Stop kriffing stalling. _

“Okay, princess,” he said. “Ready to go on an adventure?”

Leia babbled a little and smiled at him, which helped a lot to calm him down. It had every time, since she’d started doing that about a week ago.

_ And once you’re settled, I can get to work. _

Artoo beeped a question at him.

“Yeah, buddy, let’s get going.” He steeled himself and finished his last few preflight checks, then hit the ignition.

The  _ Waterfall _ hummed to life around him, and with that familiar, friendly, happy-working  _ engine _ sound, the last of his worries melted away, at least for the moment. Flying always did that for him.

He maneuvered them out of the hangar bay and through what little atmosphere the surface of Polis Massa had, out into the stars.

“I love asteroid fields,” he told Leia, tossing her a quick grin. “They’re a  _ challenge _ .”

She babbled and kicked at her seat, but stayed secure.

“Watch this, princess,” he said, moving the  _ Waterfall _ into a graceful spin that cleared one of the asteroids by an exhilaratingly slim margin.

And then froze for half a second.

_ What am I  _ doing? _ I am showing off for my  _ eight-week-old child _ , who can’t even understand what I’m  _ doing  _ yet, while she’s  _ riding with me _ , oh, hells, I am the  _ worst  _ parent ever-- _

“Kriff!” He tugged on the yoke and narrowly avoided a collision with another asteroid. “Uh. Sorry.”

Artoo whistled a reproach at him.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m paying attention now.” His heart was pounding. It took a few seconds for it to get back to normal.

He navigated the rest of the way out of the asteroid belt,  _ carefully _ , and got them into hyperspace with no further incidents.

Anakin sighed, and sat back in his chair. “That was fun,” he said. “Okay, new rule: don’t get carried away like that again. At least not when Leia’s with me.”

Leia yawned next to him, drifting off to sleep. The soft humming--or maybe just the vibrations themselves--of the hyperdrive seemed to soothe her.

_ Good to know. _

He stared out at the swirling sky, trying to relax himself. He had six hours to kill until they got to Tatooine.

“Want to kick my ass at dejarik again?” he asked Artoo. “Or I could try meditating or something…” That would probably be more useful, assuming he could focus.

Artoo blew a raspberry, showing what he thought of that idea.

“Dejarik it is,” he said. “Go easy on me, all right?”

The droid’s response was a mechanical equivalent of rolling his eyes, and pulled the portable set out from one of his compartments, setting it up to play.

 

* * *

 

_ You know, I was considered a tactical genius, _ Anakin thought, staring down at the dejarik board and trying not to actively sulk at it.  _ Or at least halfway decent at it. I should be able to beat my kriffing  _ droid  _ at this stupid game. _

And yet, for the  _ fifth time in a row, _ Artoo had managed to maneuver him into what was shaping up to be a humiliating defeat. Even the breaks he’d taken between games to tend to Leia, make sure she was clean and happy and fed, weren’t enough to regroup and regain some ground.

Just as he was considering giving in to the inevitable, the console beeped at him.

_ Saved by the bell. _

Artoo beeped a smug question at him.

“I am  _ not _ surrendering,” he said, blithely ignoring the fact that that was exactly what he’d been planning to do. “I have to get back to flying now, that’s all. If we’d kept going, I would’ve won this one.”

The droid gave a disbelieving chirp, but deactivated the board and put it away.

“I would so!” Anakin said, strapping himself back into the pilot’s seat. Then, glancing back to make sure Artoo was otherwise occupied with the navicomputer, he whispered to Leia, “Hey, let’s not tell Uncle Obi-Wan about this, princess, okay?”

She just blinked at him and cooed softly.

He wrinkled his nose at her. “Ah, nevermind.” He turned his focus back to piloting, dropping them out of hyperspace and into orbit around Tatooine.

Already, he could feel his shoulders tensing up.

He took a deep breath, and let it out slowly, trying to release the anxiety along with it, with...mixed results.

“Okay. Mos Eisley.” Closest spaceport to his stepfather’s farm, and fewer people actually knew  _ him _ there. Except possibly from the news. How much of the news filtered all the way out here, anyway?

_ I’ll keep my face covered, just in case. _ Not something he was really looking forward to. Full-face masks made him claustrophobic. But he’d put up with it, to get Leia to safety.

Landing was a breeze--almost suspiciously easy.  _ No one asks questions here, _ he reminded himself.  _ As long as you bribe the right people, anyway. _ And he had a small supply of credits for that. With any luck, between that and hiding his face, he’d be all right.

“You should probably stay with the ship,” he told Artoo. Not a lot of people could tell one astromech droid from another, but he’d rather keep the possibly-recognizable members of his party to a minimum. Especially with Leia along.

The droid beeped an accusation at him.

“No, of course not,” he said. “But if this explodes on me, I might need you to come pick us up.”

Artoo mulled that over for a minute, then asked another sly question.

“I am not!” he protested. “I mean, yeah, okay, my track record with things exploding is--just shut up.”

He snickered, but promised to stay and settled himself in to quickstart the ship if Anakin called.

Anakin gathered up Leia, a couple stuffed toys the Kallidahin had scrounged up for him, a blanket, and some water, pulled on his cloak, and slipped out of the  _ Waterfall _ to bribe the appropriate authorities and make his way to the Lars homestead.

 

* * *

 

He arrived just after the first sun set, with the second more than halfway there, riding an eopie. He’d’ve preferred a bike, but the animal was more discreet, and cheaper to rent. There was a pretty blonde woman standing on the porch, watching the sky as he approached. He recognized her as his stepbrother’s girlfriend (maybe wife now?), though it took him a minute to remember her name.

_ Beru. Right. _

She called into the house as he dismounted, hitting the eopie with a Force-suggestion to  _ stay put _ while he figured out how to juggle Leia, his supplies, and staking the animal in place.

Just when he figured it out, Owen Lars came out of the half-sunken house.

He hadn’t changed much, in the past three years. A little older, a little harder, but that same guarded wariness coloring everything he did and thought.

“Can we help you, stranger?” he asked.

Anakin reached up and dropped his hood back. “Um. Hi.”

Owen blinked. “Oh. It’s you.” He was even more guarded now, which Anakin completely understand. The one time they’d met hadn’t exactly been--

He closed his eyes and swallowed, his mother’s grave burning at the edge of his perceptions, coming perilously close to unlocking things he couldn’t face right now.

Leia fidgeted and whimpered a little in his arms.

Beru immediately softened. “You two should come inside,” she said firmly.

Owen didn’t argue.

“Thank you,” Anakin said, quietly.

Beru flashed him a smile, and he followed her and Owen inside.

“How old is the baby?” she asked.

“Eight weeks,” he said. “She’s, uh, her name’s Leia. She’s my daughter.”

“She’s  _ beautiful, _ ” Beru said. “Can I hold her?”

“I--uh.” Every instinct he had wanted to cling even tighter to his precious baby girl.  _ Mine _ .

_ Remember why you’re here. _

“Okay,” he said, and placed her in Beru’s arms, trying not to let his reluctance show too much.

She smiled up at him again, then turned all her focus to the baby, humming softly. Anakin caught a faint thought drifting out from her, a kind of wistful, endless longing, an aching  _ emptiness _ .

He tightened his shields.

Owen led them into the kitchen. “So. Anakin. What brings you back here?”

Right to the point.

_ Okay. I can work with that. _ Anakin pulled his attention away from Beru and Leia. “I...how much do you know about what’s happening--what happened, to the Republic?”

“Not a lot,” he said.

Beru looked up briefly from playing with Leia’s toes. “But what we’ve heard isn’t good,” she said, somehow managing to keep up a lighthearted, sweet tone.

_ I need her to show me how to do that, _ Anakin thought, admiringly. If he could figure out how to have important conversations without distressing Leia…

“What did happen?” Owen asked.

Anakin hesitated for a second. It would take time--and energy, and, as ashamed as he was to admit it, emotional stability--he didn’t have to explain everything.  _ What do I leave out? _

“Did the Republic really fall?” Beru asked. “Did the CIS win the war, or…?”

“No,” he said. “Technically, they lost. But really...really,  _ everyone _ lost. The Chancellor has formed an Empire.” His mechanical hand tightened into a fist on the table.  _ Breathe. Calm. There is no passion, there is serenity. _ “Things are going to be  _ worse _ now. Even if the war is officially over, even if things are...less chaotic. They’re gonna get bad.”

Owen and Beru exchanged a long look.

“So you’re going to fight him,” Beru said.

“Yes.”

“We can’t,” Owen said abruptly. “I don’t know what you want from us, Anakin, but we’re not soldiers. We have our lives  _ here _ .”

“I know you do,” he said. “And I wouldn’t--” All right, maybe he  _ would _ have asked, if he’d thought it might do any good. They needed all the active help they could get.

_ But this is just as important. _

“I’m not asking you to help fight,” he said instead.

“What, then?” Owen asked.

Anakin glanced over at Leia and Beru. “I can’t...I need her to be...safe.”

His stepbrother and sister-in-law went quiet.

“I know I shouldn’t--” He took a deep breath.  _ There is no emotion, there is peace. _ “You barely know me. I have no...no claim on your aid. The war was...awful, and I was a part of it, a  _ big _ part, and things are just--it’s going to be even uglier, at least for a while. And you’ll be--I’ll do everything I can to protect you, to protect this location, but I can’t...I  _ have _ to fight, and Leia is...she’s so  _ little _ . And I need...I need your help.” He closed his eyes. “I need your help,” he repeated, in a whisper, then forced himself to go on. “If she could...if she could stay with you, just sometimes, just while I’m…”

It was too much. He realized that now, should have realized it sooner. He shouldn’t have come here. He had no right to impose on him like this. And there was what Beru had felt, her immediate, bittersweet adoration of his daughter, and he…

_ How many people am I going to hurt, before I’m done? _ he asked himself bleakly.

“Of course she can,” Beru said firmly.

He looked up at her, half-convinced he was hearing things.

“You’re family,” Owen said, simply. “So is she. This is what families do.”

He sagged a little. “Thank you,” he whispered. “ _ Thank _ you.”

Beru frowned a little, then passed Leia carefully to Owen and put a tentative hand on Anakin’s. “Stay here tonight,” she said. “You look exhausted, and we need time to work out all the details, anyway.”

“I’m fine,” he said, but he didn’t pull his hand away. “But...all right.”

She beamed at him, and squeezed his hand. “Good. We still have some food left from dinner, are you hungry?”

“I--uh, I should feed Leia,” he said, reminded. It had been a couple hours since the last time he’d stopped to do that.

“Not what I asked, but that’s probably a good idea, too,” she said, then stood up and started going through the cabinets.

Owen passed Leia back to him. “Show me how?” he asked.

Anakin blinked.  _ Well, if she’s going to stay here, he will need to know. _ “Sure. Uh, there’s milk and a bottle in my bag.”

He nodded, and went to retrieve the supplies.

A tranquility Anakin had never really known fell over the room; not even when he’d been a child, before the Temple. Not even with Padme. One that was warm and comforting, domestic and loving.

_ Leia will be safe here. _ Despite everything--everything that had happened her, the thought rang absolutely true. He  _ knew _ it, deep inside him, as sure as he knew the suns would rise in a few hours. As sure as he felt the Force singing through him with every breath.

This place, this farm, was  _ safe _ .

Anakin let that thought sink into him, hoping it would worm its way past the worst of his fears and  _ stay _ . And, if only for a moment, as he showed his stepbrother how to feed his child, he slowly started to relax.


	17. Part 2, Chapter 7

It felt like they had all been holding their breath for six months.

It wasn’t that the disasters had stopped happening--though nothing, Bail knew, would ever match that first, terrible week. The Emperor had introduced several other sweeping changes, one right after the other; the Senate had been powerless to do much more than ceremonially ratify the decisions, even a massive overhaul of the physical infrastructure on Coruscant.

Including an announcement, just days ago, that what was left of the Jedi Temple would be rebuilt as the Imperial Palace.

Bail had sent a coded message to one of the dead drops he and Obi-Wan had set up after hearing the news--not that the Jedi wouldn’t find out eventually, of course, but he thought (or hoped, anyway) it might be marginally less awful coming from a friend.

But that aside (as heavy a burden as it was to set aside), things had stabilized for the time being. At least on the surface. Even Padme’s return to Coruscant, while it had come with all the expected press fanfare, had yet to give any indication that her deception had been discovered. After four months, the chance that Palpatine was holding back on his retaliation, letting them think they were free and clear and setting them up for some future disaster, was starting to feel more like destructive paranoia than sensible caution.

Padme had agreed with him, when they’d discussed the matter over dinner last night. Her apartment, so far as either of them or their trusted security personnel could determine, was still the safest place for them to discuss such sensitive subjects. Not least because, while he had made drastic, if subtle, improvements to the security on his own apartment, it was easier for him to visit her without raising eyebrows than vice versa. Not least because, since Luke was on planet with her, he had a perfectly above-board excuse to drop by, outside of anything to do with work. Legal or otherwise.

Particularly given the conversation he and Breha had had that morning.

“The next time you come home,” his wife had said, smiling, “and I hope that’s soon, because, there’s a little girl I want you to meet.”

As dark and difficult as these days were, as oppressive as the atmosphere on Coruscant--on  _ Imperial Center _ \--was, Bail had carried the joy of those words with him all day long.

She had sent a picture (along with a few other small items, including one from one of the dead drops), of a tiny child with large, soft eyes and a sweet, if slightly confused smile. The girl was a little older than he and Breha had discussed--close to eighteen months--but Bail didn’t care. The holo had already found pride of place on the desk in the study in his apartment. He would move it to his Senate office once everything was official. And, as far as he was concerned, she was perfect--Breha had found her, after all. So, unless the little girl decided she hated him, Bail would have a daughter very soon.

Of course, as uplifting as it was, that probably also contributed to his feeling that they needed to move forward, now. They were supposed to be fixing the world for their children, so that the twins--and now his little girl, to say nothing of the trillions he had never met--would never have to see or do the things that  _ they _ had seen and done.

And so he was heading back to Padme’s apartment, as arranged by a flurry of quick and carefully coded messages. It was time to expand their network. It was time to start their rebellion in earnest. It was time to stop observing, and begin to actually  _ build _ .

When he arrived, one of Padme’s handmaidens--Sabe this time--opened the door for him. “Please, come in, Senator. She’s in the back room with Luke, but will be out shortly.”

“Of course,” he said, and followed her in. “Is Senator Mothma here yet?”

Sabe shook her head. “No. I imagine her excuse for visiting required more...creativity...than yours, in any case. We won’t worry for another half hour or so.”

He nodded, and took a seat on the couch, accepting the cup of tea she poured him just as Padme emerged from the bedroom.

“I thought I heard you come in,” she said, waving him off when he started to stand. “I just put Luke down. He’s sleeping through the night every night now.”

“That’s good news,” he said, smiling.  _ One advantage of starting with a slightly older child, I suppose--my daughter already does that. So far as I know. Most children do by eighteen months, if I remember correctly. _ He’d done quite a bit of research, the first time Breha was pregnant.

“What about you?” she asked, taking a cup from Sabe’s tray. “I know you and Breha have been talking.”

He felt his smile widen. “Nothing’s official yet, but…”

“Oh, that’s  _ wonderful! _ ” she said, with a bright, genuine smile of her own.

“Don’t mention it to anyone yet, please,” he said. “Not until everything’s formalized.”

“Not a word, I promise,” she assured him. “I want to see pictures the minute you have them.”

“Of course,” he said. “I’ll be going home at the end of the week. Hopefully, after that…”

“I’ll keep you in my thoughts,” she said, then set her cup down. “Any news from our other friends?”

_ Ah. _ And here was a slight difficulty. The surprise from the dead drop weighed heavily in his pocket--especially considering what it was. A handwritten letter, on a couple sheets of flimsi;  _ Please give this to her if it’s safe --A _ .

Just like Skywalker; reckless, to leave something that could identify them like that. And, just like Skywalker--cleverly taking a kind of refuge in audacity. Flimsi was easy to destroy if anyone was compromised; and almost certainly there would be no trail, no other copies, unlike with an electronic message. And it would positively  _ thrill _ Padme to hear from her husband, to have concrete proof in her hands that he was alive and safe, at least when he’d written the letter.

On the other hand, given the nature of the meeting they were about to have, she needed to be focused. And he doubted she could manage that, if he gave it to her now. Were he in her position, he knew  _ he _ wouldn’t be able to ignore a letter from Breha, no matter what pressing business was at hand.

Fortunately, he was spared having to make a decision when the bell rang.

Padme sighed, her eyes tracking Sabe as she went to the door. “Tell me after?”

“Of course.”

He heard Senator Mothma’s voice, soft and measured, thanking Sabe for her courtesy, and then she at last joined them.

“Senator Amidala, Senator Organa,” she said, with a brief bow. Both Bail and Padme rose and echoed the gesture.

“Thank you for joining us, Senator Mothma,” Padme said. “Especially at such an unusual hour.”

She inclined her head, and took a seat on the couch next to Padme. “I think I can guess why I’m here,” she said.

_ Skipping the pleasantries, _ he thought.  _ Probably for the best. _ Mothma had been with them, at least in spirit, for a long time--she had signed the Petition just as they had, after all.

Some of the Two Thousand had already disappeared, or been openly killed. Mothma had publicly recanted--as had he and Padme; a devastating necessity--so she was safe for now. But he knew that her private convictions remained unchanged. As had theirs.

“I’m sure you can,” Padme said, meeting her halfway. “But I don’t know that you grasp the extent of what we’re proposing.”

Mothma arched one elegant eyebrow. “I’m listening.”

“Revolution,” Bail said quietly.

The word hung between the three of them for a moment, the only sound coming from Mothma’s spoon clicking faintly as she stirred her tea.

“You really believe we cannot resolve this through legal channels, in the Senate,” she finally said. She had said much the same thing herself, months ago. Bail remembered it well. But now, there was a different tone to it. Something resigned, almost--hopeless.

“Unfortunately, we do,” Padme said, putting a gentle hand on Mothma’s.

“It’s gone far beyond that now,” Bail added. He did not look out the window, in the direction of the scaffolding around the Temple. Padme had her windows blacked out now, anyway.

Mothma was quiet again for a moment, considering, then sighed and set her cup down. “I am with you,” she said. “I  _ want _ to be with you. But what recourse do we have? What resources? We cannot fight a war. Not against him.”

“Not  _ yet _ ,” Bail said. “But it will come to that someday, I think.” As much as he wished it weren’t true, he knew better.

“Our job is to be ready when it does. To have support for...for the people who will do the direct fighting,” Padme said. “Funds, equipment, supplies…”

“To say nothing of rebuilding when it’s over,” he continued. “We have...contacts in the field, who are already taking direct action. Their half of this will grow. And so must ours.”

“I see,” Mothma said. “Forgive me, but I must ask--do you speak for yourselves, or for your planets?”

“Breha is with us,” Bail said. “She has requested plausible deniability, but Alderaan will be a waystation for supplies and personnel, and information.” As it already was; Skywalker’s letter burned in his pocket.

“It’s...complicated,” Padme said, staring down into her tea. “Apailana is in an extremely difficult position. We both are. She won’t do anything to endanger our people, but she is as--ashamed of our connection to all of this as I am.”

She nodded, sympathetic. “I will speak with key members of the Assembly on Chandrila, as soon as I can do so securely. But for now, I speak only for myself and my personal resources.”

“That’s not an inconsiderable advantage for us,” Padme said.

Mothma bowed her head briefly. “Thank you, Senator.”

“Padme,” she corrected, then smiled wryly. “If we’re going to conspire to commit treason in my sitting room, I think we should be on a first-name basis.”

Mothma--Mon--smiled at that. “Of course,” she said. “Padme.”

The necessary question out of the way, Padme then changed the subject--something lighthearted, a public reason for their meeting; a way to pass the time until it would not be suspicious for Mon and Bail to leave.

A small step forward, but a step forward nonetheless. Bail could already feel some of the tension easing from his shoulders.

They could win this. And the galaxy he would leave for his daughter--his precious daughter, who he already adored, even without having held her--would be the one she deserved.

 

* * *

 

Sidious studied the boy kneeling at his feet--not the one he’d wanted there, which still irritated him, but a tolerable substitute. At least for the time being. He had other candidates, of course--a human woman, a male Mirialan, a Twi’lek child; a few others--but this boy had the most potential.

Fifteen, born and raised in a slum on the underlevels; he had slipped through the cracks. He was bitter, vicious, clever--and ripe for exploitation; unstable in all the right ways. Not the strongest candidate in terms of raw power, but even untrained, he was skilled at using what he had to best advantage. Most importantly, he could be ready for action sooner than the others, and suit Sidious’ needs quite nicely.

Besides, he would need backups, in case this one failed--or overstepped--and needed to be disposed of. He would keep the other candidates close, for that purpose and perhaps others. Time, and the Force, would tell.

“Your name,” he said, the words hissing past his lips, spoken by the darkness deep within him, “is Specter.”

“Yes, Master,” the boy murmured.

“Rise,” he said; and it was only his own voice now. “We have a great deal of work to do.”


	18. Part 2, Chapter 8

Obi-Wan sprawled flat on the ridge, observing the base tucked away in the valley below them. It was their third day of observation, and he was fairly certain he had all the patterns down now. _Looks like they haven’t changed security rotation protocols yet. Good. We can use that against them, if we time it right._

Which meant moving this afternoon--not at night, the guards would be more wary in the dark. Assuming they were even halfway decent. Two he’d seen without helmets were new faces, so he couldn’t answer for how well they’d been trained.

Still, they had been watching for three days, and were fast approaching the line between being ill-prepared and risking discovery.

He glanced over at Anakin, at his right hand again, back where they both belonged; he was a coiled spring, full of anticipation.

Oddly comforting, that. Some things, at least, hadn’t changed.

Anakin met his gaze, and arched one eyebrow.

 _Ready?_ He stuck to hand signals--there were no signs anyone was close enough to hear, but better safe than sorry.

He nodded.

_Head south. Make some noise._

He grinned and nodded, slipping off into the underbrush and almost immediately out of sight.

Obi-Wan watched him go anyway, trying to release his--it wasn’t doubt. He did not-- _could not_ \--doubt Anakin. He was...concerned, though. This was the first time Anakin had been separated from Leia for more than a day, and Obi-Wan knew he was fretting about her. Despite knowing she was perfectly safe, back on the farm.

 _That was a fairly inspired choice on his part,_ Obi-Wan thought. He never would have believed Anakin would head back there, to the place where he had known such intense pain, with someone so precious to him. With any luck, Palpatine and his agents would make the same assumption. _And he seems to be doing...all right, despite what...reminding himself must have been like_.

Still, he’d been on edge the entire time they’d been here, even more than usual. Add to that the fact that this was Anakin’s first active combat mission since Palpatine’s takeover, and it wasn’t going to be an easy one...

 _We don’t have the luxury of planning around that,_ he reminded himself. _If he wasn’t ready, he wouldn’t be here. Even_ he _wouldn’t risk it._

Besides. Difficult as this was, given that there were two of them against a garrison, it was also a fairly _simple_ mission, one they’d done hundreds of times over the years, even before the war. And they’d faced odds this uncertain before, though it had been a while. They would be fine.

Of course, their lives being what they were, Obi-Wan had scarcely had the thought when things started to drift away from the plan.

First, there was an explosion on the horizon, in the general direction Anakin had wandered off--one at least _twice_ the size of the explosives Anakin should have been carrying.

“Is it really so much to ask for a _small_ distraction?” he muttered, annoyed but not altogether surprised, picking himself up and making his way down the slope, flitting from shadow to shadow to the all-too-familiar accompaniment of blaster fire.

 _Trust that he’ll do his job,_ he reminded himself. _And if he has any problems--well, the sooner you do_ yours _, the sooner you can rescue him if he needs it._

The thought was parent to the deed, and he found the back door of the base helpfully unguarded. He paused for a split second, debating the best way through it, then simply cut the lock. His original plan had been to avoid leaving obvious indications that any Jedi survivors were involved in the incident, but--well, by the sound of things, Anakin had completely thrown that out the window.

No one immediately inside the door, either, which made him briefly worried, that Anakin maybe had overestimated his own capabilities, and drawn the _entire_ garrison out of the base.

 _I can’t do anything about that just now,_ he reminded himself. He closed his eyes to center himself, then crept down the hall, operating on a familiarity that was almost muscle memory at this point.

 _We’ll be in bigger trouble if Palpatine ever decides to redesign the standard base layout,_ he thought idly, when he reached the comm center--exactly where it was supposed to be.

This time, he manipulated the lock rather than cutting it. Best to minimize the chances of hostile interruptions. The fewer obvious signs of where he’d been now he was inside, the better.

Unfortunately, this was where the second thing went wrong.

Anakin may have drawn out _most_ of the garrison-- _maybe more than he can handle, maybe he’s in real trouble, I should be there, I shouldn’t have left him alone_ \--but there were a half-dozen left here to protect the comms.

And, more importantly, Obi-Wan’s target--a set of thirteen theoretically unsliceable code keys.

He didn’t waste any time on reacting, to the sudden change in circumstances or to the too-familiar helmets bearing down on him.

Or, worse, the one who had taken his _off_.

And was very much _not_ a new recruit.

His lightsaber was active before the first shot went off, and he spun into action, reflecting it back to the source. A second-- _stormtrooper_ \--narrowly missed him; he slid out of the shot’s trajectory at the last second.

_Shift. Block. Strike. There is no emotion, there is peace._

A too-brief moment later, there were six dead men at his feet.

He closed his eyes. _This is getting easier. I’m...not sure how I feel about that._

The first few times, it had been difficult to separate out the present from the past. Sometimes it made him more desperate, more brutal. A few times, it had made him hesitate, remembering that awful mess with Fives and--he couldn’t remember the other one’s name, the one who had gone mad ahead of schedule.

 _They were victims, too. As much as we were_.

It was a good thing that he was a Jedi, and had forsworn revenge. Thoughts like that one were...tempting. His lifelong commitment, so deeply ingrained it was reflex, kept him on the right path.

He only hoped that Anakin--

_Get the keys. Then go help him._

It was somewhat unlikely the keys would be useful for decoding intercepted communications for very long. The theft would hardly go unnoticed--wouldn’t have, even if they’d managed subtlety. But it would cause no end of difficulty for the Emperor’s war machine, while new codes were developed.

 _And then, I suppose, we’ll have to steal_ those _keys, and on and on._

It took about five tense minutes for him to break into the sealed compartment where the hard copies of the keys were kept, but there were no further interruptions. And, fortunately, all thirteen were there, along with a datapad that likely contained highly sensitive--meaning _useful_ \--information.

Obi-Wan slid both it and the keys into one of the pockets of his robes, then picked his way over the bodies and started working his way towards the south end of the base, towards the ongoing sounds of battle.

 _Well, if they’re still shooting, he’s still fighting,_ he reasoned with himself. Which was a good thing.

As if summoned by his thoughts, Anakin’s mind brushed his lightly, checking his status.

_Finished here. Time to go._

A brief acknowledgement, and Obi-Wan sensed Anakin beginning to withdraw. He paused for a minute, reconsidering.

 _I’ll loop around,_ he decided. _If Anakin thinks I’ve been pinned down trying to get to him, he’ll come back, and that risks the rest of the mission._

He doubled back the way he’d come--encountered another pair of guards; these fortunately unfamiliar and unmasked; much easier to deal with--and reached the ridge mere moments ahead of Anakin.

Who was limping slightly, and still leaking adrenaline into the Force.

“Lost ‘em,” he said. “At least for now.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “I have what we came for. Are you all right?”

Anakin waved a hand. “Just a graze, I’ll be fine.” He pushed on down the other side of the ridge, towards where they’d left the _Waterfall_.

Obi-Wan followed close behind, ready to deal with any pursuit, but the Force was with them--Anakin had managed to pull far enough ahead that they were in the air before the shooting started.

“Clean up,” he advised, as soon as they were out of range. “I can take the controls for a minute.”

He shook his head. “I’d rather be here, least ‘til we’re in hyperspace.”

Which meant he was upset--probably for at least some of the same reasons as Obi-Wan--and, since he didn’t have anything to take apart and reassemble, piloting was the best way for him to calm down.

Still, despite the faint traces of lingering distress bleeding into the Force, it felt--comfortable. _Familiar_ , strapping himself in next to Anakin, a successful mission behind them.

And, to his relief, Anakin did relax a little, after he navigated them through the planet’s rings and out into hyperspace. “So. That went well,” he said. “Told you I was ready.”

“You did,” he said. “And I’m glad you were. I was able to get what we came for, and neither of us was captured. Although you could have been a little more…”

He gave Obi-Wan a perfectly innocent look. “You _said_ you needed a distraction.”

“Yes, well, next time, try not to draw _so_ much attention you get yourself shot,” he replied dryly.

“I told you, it’s just a graze,” he said. “I’m fine.”

And he was; Obi-Wan would have sensed it if Anakin were seriously hurt. Still, with the added context of--who he’d seen in the base, who he’d _killed_ today, it was difficult not to remember him lying unconscious in the _Tantive_ ’s medical bay, barely holding on.

Difficult not to remember--

 _A moment with your Padawan, take_.

“I know,” he said, and fought down the urge to add, _but we can’t replace you, so do try to be more careful; I don’t want to say--I’ve had to say too many goodbyes, please don’t be one more_.

“Are _you_ okay?” Anakin asked.

“I’m not hurt,” he said. “Not even grazed.” And if that last was maybe a _little_ pointed, well.

“Fine, fine, I can take a hint,” he said, rolling his eyes and unstrapping himself. “I want to do a couple intermediate jumps, but we should head for the farm. You haven’t seen Leia in a while. Or held her. Everything’s better, holding Leia.”

“Hm.” Well, Anakin probably wasn’t wrong there. And a long, circuitous route to Tatooine would give him some time with the datapad and the code keys, before he deposited them in a dead drop for Senator Organa to deal with. “That sounds like an excellent plan.”

Anakin grinned at him. “Good, ‘cause I already programmed in the course. It’d be a pain to reset everything if you said no.”

It was Obi-Wan’s turn to roll his eyes at that. “Go clean yourself up. I’ll be right here if you need anything.”

He nodded, and limped back out of the cockpit, and Obi-Wan sighed. Today _had_ gone well. Better than he’d expected. Better even than he’d hoped. But it was still--there was still a long war ahead of them.

On the other hand, they were together again, a team again, falling back into seamless collaboration as if Anakin hadn’t just spent six months healing. As long as that was true--as long as he still had his brother beside him--Obi-Wan knew they’d make it through. They always had, and they always would.

No matter how long it took them to do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this concludes the Homecoming arc!
> 
> Part Three, which is tentatively titled 'Captain,' starts next week, with a bit of a timeskip. I hope you will enjoy ^^.
> 
> <3
> 
> ~shadowsong
> 
>  
> 
> (And, as a thank you for sticking with me thus far, have a teaser for Part 3:
> 
>  _Even after over two standard years on the run, Rex still felt hellishly uncomfortable in civilian dress._ )


	19. Part 3: Captain, Chapter 1

Even after over two standard years on the run, Rex still felt hellishly uncomfortable in civilian dress. He’d been a soldier all his life; it was what he was designed to be, and, more importantly, what he was  _ good _ at. It was one thing to step out of uniform for an undercover mission with--with a ranking officer, under orders, and he had done that before without question or complaint. But this was different. No one had sent him here. No one had ordered him to dress this way.

On the other hand, even if it had been safe, just the  _ thought _ of the alternative made his skin crawl even more.

He didn’t dream about the Temple anymore, not like he had the first six months or so, but it still haunted his every breath. Putting on his armor again, or even a duty uniform, would make it impossible to move on from the way he and his brothers had betrayed everything.

The way they’d  _ been _ betrayed.

Most of them, so far as he knew, had stayed with the GAR--the Imperial Stormtrooper Corps now. Rex--and maybe some others, but he hadn’t met anyone--hadn’t had it in him to do that. He’d delivered his report to his new superiors after the Temple, because it was easier to stick to rote routines and established procedures than to think about what had happened. About what he’d done. And then, the first chance he’d gotten, he’d done what he always swore he would never do.

He’d abandoned his brothers, and deserted his post.

He’d stripped off his armor--the bodyglove underneath was nondescript enough--stowed away on a semi-legal freighter leaving from one of the seedier districts of Coruscant, and done his best to disappear.

First chance he got after that, he left the freighter and stole a medical droid to cut out his chip. Once it was done, he’d destroyed the droid as thoroughly as he knew how, scattering the pieces among a half-dozen junk dealers so no one could use it to trace him. He wasn’t proud of that, exactly--of any of it--but the alternative was, again,  _ worse _ .

From there, he’d ghosted from place to place until the nightmares stopped, keeping his head down and doing whatever he had to, short of outright murder, to survive. But every day he woke up, and saw the scar on the side of his shaved head, and knew-- _ never again. I will never again be forced to hunt down and kill my--to hunt down and kill children. I am my own man. Now and forever more. _

With enough repetition, he’d managed to convince himself of that fact. As time went by, he’d gotten better at coping with the reality of his life after the Temple. Bit by bit, he built a new existence for himself. He stuck to the fringes of the galaxy still, because it was safer. He favored planets on the Outer Rim with climates that were inhospitable enough he could get away with covering most of his face, and where there was minimal Imperial presence.

He hired himself out as a security guard, but shied away from making any sort of connection with the Bounty Hunter’s Guild or any other organized entity. Sure, it would have made things easier ( _ and he wouldn’t have been alone anymore _ ) but the risk of recognition was too high. He cultivated a quiet reputation for competence and discretion, and he got enough offers that he was able to eat and move from place to place by more or less legal means. Or as legal as things like that ever got in this part of the galaxy. It wasn’t a good life, not by a long shot--not as he defined it--but it wasn’t a terrible one, either.

Rex was, for the moment, between jobs. He’d stopped on a planet whose name he had already forgotten; it was mostly used as a waystation by various travelers and small-time traders, legal and otherwise. There was a bigger garrison than he liked, due to a valuable mine on one of the planet’s moons, but the other advantages of the place outweighed that consideration for the moment. Due to the near-constant dripping rain, almost everyone went around with hooded cloaks, and no few wore scarves around some part of their face. In short, especially if he kept his blasters mostly hidden from sight, Rex blended in nicely. Provided he wore the kriffing uncomfortable civilian clothes.

He’d headed down to a covered market near the spaceport early this morning. Places like that, he’d found, were the best for him to find work that was at least mostly honest but didn’t involve too many questions. Cantinas tended to skew too far away from the former for his liking, and just about anything else had issues with the latter. So, markets--with the added benefit that he could stock up on what supplies he preferred to carry with him.

He’d been at it for about an hour, outwardly relaxed, letting his eyes drift over the crowd for likely employers or useful supplies, when everything changed in a heartbeat.

It was only a glimpse, as his eyes wandered over the crowd, but, bent over a fruit stand, covered in a hooded cloak exactly like the ones everyone else in the market was wearing, he saw--

He  _ knew _ the set of those shoulders.

In that instant, Rex couldn’t breathe. He had to get out of there.

With less far grace and discretion than he would have liked, he pushed his way out of the market to the alley outside, loosening his scarf just enough that he could suck in more air.

_ It can’t be him. You’re losing it, Rex; your brain must be waterlogged or something, it wasn’t him. It  _ wasn’t  _ him. It  _ can’t _ have been. _

The body language hadn’t been right, anyway. But that was no guarantee; Rex himself didn’t move the same way he used to, either, and it was entirely deliberate. After all, it was one thing to move like other people to avoid standing out, but moving _ exactly _ like millions of other men around the galaxy was another thing entirely.

Besides, given everything that had happened when--that had happened that day, a change in Anakin Skywalker’s body language was all too easy to explain.

He sank down onto his haunches, burying his face in his hands.

_ No. No, no, it’s not him. He’s not--you  _ saw _ him-- _

Unbidden, memories flowed into Rex’s head.

Skywalker, perched on a ledge--one of what must have been thousands in Rex’s memory--ready to swan dive into an entire kriffing droid battalion and come out intact; he somehow always came out intact.

Skywalker, joining him and the others around a fire when they were stationed on a nameless backwater not so different from this one, trading stories and good fellowship.

Skywalker, sparring with Commander Tano, while Rex and the others kept watch, the two Jedi fondly teasing each other even as they searched resolutely for weak points they rarely found.

Skywalker, incandescent with rage, storming off to rescue Tano or Kenobi or that Senator he pretended he wasn’t in love with--even Rex and his brothers a few times.

Skywalker, drenched in blood, the floor slick around him, his robes heavy with it, barely holding onto his lightsaber, a dead child who looked too much like the Commander at his feet.

Skywalker, pleading with Rex, begging him to stop; for the first time since Rex had met him, his reckless, indomitable General was  _ begging _ .

Skywalker, falling.

Skywalker, dying.

_ You have to stop this. I  _ know _ you can stop this. You’re better than this. Rex, look at me. Rex-- _

“Rex?”

Slowly, Rex returned to the present and looked up.

Skywalker still had his hood up, screening his face, but there was no denying that voice. Rex had listened to it, day in day out, for three years. He knew it almost as well as he knew his own.

His General was standing at the mouth of the alley, his stance guarded but not yet aggressive. One hand was deceptively casually hidden beneath his cloak, but Rex knew that it was on the hilt of his lightsaber, ready to pull it out in an instant.

No denying it now. Somehow, miraculously, Skywalker had survived. Somehow, he was  _ here. _

_ This is it. We killed just about everyone he ever loved, and then I  _ ran _ so I wouldn’t have to deal with the consequences. I am a coward and a murderer. I have dishonored the service I gave him. _

“I’m sorry,” Rex whispered, lowering his eyes again, knowing damn well that saying it wasn’t enough. It wouldn’t  _ ever _ be enough. He had learned to live with what he’d done, but he would never be forgiven. Not by Skywalker, not by himself. He would die in this alley, and know it was justice.

At least he got to know, in the end, that Skywalker at least had survived. That, somehow, he’d survived getting shot close to a dozen times, bleeding all over the Temple from at least a half-dozen shrapnel wounds, and falling off of the High Council spire.

_ I should have known. There’s not much can kill my--not much can kill General Skywalker. _

It was a comfort, in the end, to have one less death on his conscience.

But all that happened was Skywalker’s visible hand--the prosthetic, Rex noted--flicked slightly, and Rex felt his own hood fly back off his head.

And then, to Rex’s surprise, Skywalker visibly relaxed.

“You cut your chip out,” he said, his other hand coming out from under his cloak, without the lightsaber.

_ What? _ “Yeah,” Rex said. “As soon as I could. I didn’t…I should’ve done it sooner. I should’ve...I should’ve listened to Fives.”

Skywalker bowed his head, tensing up again without going for his lightsaber. “We all should have,” he said quietly.

For a long moment, neither of them said anything, and Rex felt the air grow close around him again; dense and full of static tension. The only sound was the incessant patter of rain on the sidewalk. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

None of this made  _ sense _ . Yes, he’d cut out his chip, but it didn’t change what he’d done, not any of it. And how the  _ hell  _ had Skywalker survived all those shots, that much bloodloss, that  _ fall? _ Even  _ he _ had to have limits.

Skywalker took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and the air lightened again.

Rex took a breath of his own, not at all sure what to make of any of this. The fact that he was still breathing at  _ all _ chief among them. Yes, he and his General had been close--or as close as they could be, given their professional relationship; certainly closer than most Jedi got to their clone 2ICs--but that was before…that was before the Temple.

“Come with me,” Skywalker said.

“I…what?”  _ What the kriffing hell? _

“Come with me,” he repeated, offering a hand for emphasis.

Rex just stared at him.  _ That’s it. I’m dreaming. There is no kriffing  _ way  _ this is real. Even  _ if _ he survived, even  _ if _ he found me--there’s no way in hell  _ this  _ would happen. _

Skywalker shifted a little, clearly sensing his doubts. “I could use your help. You  _ know _ me. You know how I think. We’ve worked together before.” He shifted his hood a little, so Rex could meet his eyes, and see them clearly. “And I trust you,” he finished, quietly, but with conviction.

He looked--he looked  _ almost _ the same. Same blue eyes, same thin scar cutting across one of them. There was a new one, sliding down his chin to taper off at his throat, but any other--any other evidence of what Rex and his brothers had done to him was still hidden.

Skywalker looked almost exactly the same as he had two years ago, and that just made this whole situation that much more unreal.

“We worked together before,” Rex said, after taking several minutes to find his voice again. “ _ Before _ . The…what I did, sir, I can’t…”

Skywalker shook his head. “It wasn’t you,” he said, with a bite of impatience in his voice.

Again, a string of memories flooded through Rex; Skywalker, bloody and begging for his life, falling from the Temple; the weight of his blaster in his hand; the river of dead he and his brothers had left in their wake.

“That’s not how I remember it,” he said quietly, shaking off those ghosts a lot faster this time.

Skywalker didn’t answer right away. “Well, you cut that part of you out,” he finally said. “Maybe if you hadn’t, we’d be having a different conversation. But you  _ did _ . You’re not--you wouldn’t--you wouldn’t do something like that again, right? Even if I ordered you to?”

“No,” Rex said. “No, I would  _ never _ .” Unbidden, his hand drifted up to the scar on his scalp.  _ Never again. I am my own man _ .

“Then that’s good enough for me,” Skywalker said firmly. “It wasn’t  _ you _ .”

Rex wanted to believe him. More than he had ever dared to let himself hope, he wanted this to be true. He wanted General Skywalker’s forgiveness; he wanted to fight with him,  _ for _ him, like before. It would give his life meaning and purpose again, restore almost everything he’d lost when he’d fled Coruscant and put on civilian clothes.

This was what he was designed for. This was what he was  _ good _ at. This was all he wanted--all he had  _ ever _ wanted, from the moment he was mature enough to want anything.

But it  _ couldn’t _ be this easy. It couldn’t be just--steal a medical droid, cut out his chip, and all would be forgiven.

Skywalker faltered a bit, his hand lowering a few centimeters. “I’m not going to make you,” he said. “It’s your choice. I just…I  _ want _ you to come with me.”

Rex hesitated for another second. He still wasn’t sure he should do this, wasn’t sure he  _ could _ do this, wasn’t sure he could accept what Skywalker was offering. Not his forgiveness, nor his trust, at least not yet--if such a thing could be done, he would have to  _ earn _ it. He knew that.

But Skywalker was giving him a chance to  _ try _ . And this--this was  _ right _ . This was where he belonged, serving a Jedi General the way he had been bred to do. After everything he’d done, Rex  _ knew _ that, deep in his bones, deeper than even the chip had gone. So deep it became a reflex.

Before he could change his mind again, he reached up and accepted Skywalker’s hand.

The Jedi grinned, and hauled him to his feet. “It’s good to have you back, Captain.”

“It’s good to be back, sir.” Even if he didn’t feel all the way  _ back _ yet, just getting as close as he had already made him feel more like himself. “What’s the mission?”

“Three guesses.”

On reflection, Rex didn’t really need them. “Taking down the Emperor.”

Skywalker nodded, grim. “Yeah. But, since that’s going to take a while, in the meantime, we’re doing everything we can to limit his expansion. We’re fighting back however and wherever we can. Still on board?”

Rex knew why he was asking. He knew that, if he stayed committed, he’d possibly--probably--end up fighting his surviving brothers.

He closed his eyes, and tried not to think of Umbara.

_ This is different. I know what I’m getting myself into this time. I’m not being manipulated into another massacre. _

“Yeah,” he said, opening his eyes again. “I’m in.”

“Okay,” he said. “Get your gear, and meet me at my ship. Docking bay ninety-four.”

“Ninety-four,” Rex confirmed. “Uh, any reason we need to bug out in a hurry?”

Skywalker got that  _ look _ in his eye, one that Rex knew all too well.

“You’re gonna go blow something up, aren’t you.”

“See? You  _ know _ me.”

_ Oh, yeah.  _ Just _ like old times _ . “There’s nothing here I can’t live without,” he said. “I’ll come with you.”

Skywalker paused for a minute, and Rex could practically see the wheels turning in his head, as he made quick adjustments to however much of his mission he’d actually planned out in advance this time. “All right,” he finally said. “If you’re sure.”

_ I am  _ not _ about to let you get yourself killed less than an hour after you’ve given me the second chance I don’t deserve. _ “I am.”

He grinned again. “Then follow me.”

Rex nodded, and fell into step behind his Jedi, pulling his hood and scarf back up over his face, struck once more by how  _ right _ it felt, watching Anakin Skywalker’s back again.

_ I’ll do everything I can to  _ earn _ what you’ve given me, even if it takes the rest of my life. I’ll do everything I can to make things right. _ His scar itched faintly under his hood, and he felt the incalculable, ghostly weight of too much blood on his hands.  _ And I will  _ never _ betray you or let you fall again. _

_ I promise. _


	20. Part 3, Chapter 2

“No,” Luke said, with all the finality a toddler could muster.

Padme sighed internally. Every morning, at least for the past week or so, had started out this way, because her beloved son, in all his infinite two-year-old wisdom, seemed to have decided that shoes were the ultimate evil and must be avoided at all costs. She’d let him get away with it a couple of times--which she was now deeply,  _ deeply _ regretting--because it didn’t really matter all that much on a regular day. Because on a normal day, he spent most of his time in the apartment anyway, with one of her handmaidens babysitting while she was at work.

But today, she had a rare morning off, and since the  _ other _ thing Luke was certain of this week was that butterflies were the single most amazing thing in the entire galaxy, the plan was to use that time to go to the park and chase some together.

The problem was, of course, that this plan required shoes.

_ Why is it, _ she thought wearily,  _ that I can draft a law, beat back an invading army, run a kriffing  _ planet, _ but not convince my two-year-old child to finish getting dressed? _

“Lulu, sweetheart,” she tried wheedling, “if you want to come to the park to play with Mommy, you have to let me put them on.”

Luke pondered that for a moment, and Padme was almost starting to hope he’d caved, when, “No,” he declared, sitting on the ground and blinking up at her, as if to say ‘your move, Mommy, but I bet you can’t beat that.’

_ All right. New plan. _ “Well, then, I guess I’ll just have to go by myself,” she said, setting the shoes down and starting to get up.

“Nooooooo!” He latched onto her legs and stared up at her with his giant, sad blue eyes. “Mommy,  _ butterflies! _ ”

“Shoes first,” she said.

He frowned, then brightened as inspiration struck. He wriggled over to the side and, trying to block her view of it with his tiny body, kicked the shoes under the bed. “Uh-oh. All gone!”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Really?”

He gave her his most winning smile. “Butterflies?”

She sighed again, but before she could respond, Sabe tapped on the door.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she said.

“By all means,” Padme replied, as Luke tried to take advantage of her brief distraction to shove the hated shoes further under the bed. “Nice try, Lulu, I saw that.”

Sabe bit back a grin. “Senator Organa’s here,” she said.

Padme frowned. Bail didn’t usually drop by unannounced like that--he  _ appeared _ to, frequently, so it wouldn’t raise red flags if there was an actual emergency, but that was carefully-choreographed,  _ staged _ spontaneity. This was real.

“Mommy?” Luke said, peeking up at her. Probably picking up on her worry--which, as she had learned from reputable research and frequently reassured herself, was something all, or at least most, small children could do.

So she smiled at him, and ruffled his hair. “Nothing to worry about, sweet boy. Mommy just has to go talk to Uncle Bail real quick. That’s all.”

“‘Kay,” he said, but he wrapped himself around her legs again.

Very gently, she pried him off. “Why don’t you play with Aunt Sabe for a minute, hmm? I’ll be right back.” She met Sabe’s eyes briefly and nodded at the half-hidden shoes. Hopefully, she’d have more luck with them.

And hopefully Bail’s news wouldn’t be that perfect combination of awful and actionable that meant the park trip had to be cancelled entirely.

Sabe nodded back and scooped Luke up before he could start clinging again. “All right, precious child, what are you trying to hide from Mommy? Can you show me?”

Without waiting for Luke’s response, Padme slipped out into the sitting room. “Good morning,” she said, when she caught sight of Bail, standing off to one side with his hands clasped behind his back, staring out the window.

“Padme,” he said, turning around to greet her with a smile. “I’m glad I caught you.” His tone was carefully light--ready for a few seconds of innocent small talk while Dorme, who was on counter-surveillance duty today, double-checked the equipment.

“You almost didn’t,” she admitted, gesturing him to a seat. “We were planning on going to the park, but my son refuses to put his shoes on.” She sighed, and moved a slightly-toothmarked baby book aside before sitting down herself. “Does your daughter ever give you trouble like that?”

He shook his head. “No, she doesn’t have a problem with shoes.”

“Clear, Senators,” Dorme interrupted quietly.

“Thank you,” Padme said. “Bail, what happened?”

“Senator Alavar was killed last night,” he said.

Padme sucked in a breath. Yet another member of the Two Thousand, who had walked back their position but stopped short of fully recanting. Nee Alavar had been a friend, if a distant one--not part of their network yet, but Mon had been in the process of sounding her out for active recruitment. “Hell,” she said. “Are we…?”

He shook his head. “No chance of compromise. It was quick.”

“Right,” she said. “How did he stage it this time?”

“That’s the problem,” Bail said. “He  _ didn’t. _ ”

She blinked. “He--you mean he had her openly  _ murdered? _ ”

“It gets worse,” he said grimly, pulling out a datapad. “I have a reporter contact on Lorrd. They were able to get me this.”

After a quick glance at the bedroom door to make sure Sabe still had Luke safely shut away behind it, Padme nodded for Bail to play the footage.

It was, as he had said, quick.

Senator Alavar was walking down a street in a flickering, low-quality security hologram. She was accompanied by another Human, a man who may or may not have been an aide. And then--

A shadow flitted across the image; Senator Alavar crumpled in its wake, her head lolling at an unnatural angle, and the aide started to scream.

_ Oh, no. _

Padme swallowed. “Play it...play it again?”

Bail replayed the video.

On second viewing, she saw the shadow--a tall humanoid heavily cloaked in black, moving with preternatural speed and grace, and melting away as suddenly as they appeared.

“Oh,  _ no,” _ she whispered.

“I know,” Bail said quietly, and shut the datapad off.

Padme sat in stupefied silence for a long moment. Her first, selfish thought was-- _ Luke. Luke, oh, hells, if that--if that creature comes  _ here, _ will he still be safe? _ Obi-Wan and Master Yoda had done  _ something _ to shield him from Palpatine’s notice, but if that was too tailored to the Emperor, if…

_ Stop it. Stop panicking. I doubt it is, they must have--they must have recognized this possibility. They would have planned for it. And, worst case scenario, I can always have him stay with Sola for a little while. It’ll be all right. He’ll be all right. _

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Can I have a copy?” she asked, her voice shaking only a little. “Elle’s good with holovids, she might be able to clean up the footage. Give us a little more detail about…about this being.”

He nodded. “Of course.”

There wasn’t much chance, given the quality they were starting with, but all she could tell right now was that the--assassin  _ (apprentice? Assassin, stick with assassin, that’s less devastating) _ was humanoid, but not human. The proportions were all wrong, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on exactly  _ what _ didn’t line up right. Hopefully, Elle would be able to tell them more.

“What do we do, in the meantime?” she asked. What  _ could _ they do?

“I...don’t think I should leave this at a dead drop,” he said. “It’s too much. Too important.”

Right. Of course. Because that would be the next step--assassin or apprentice, the Jedi would have to know.

Her heart fluttered a little bit. “You want to make direct contact?”

“If I can,” he said. “And if you approve.”

They’d talked about the possibility, two years ago on Polis Massa. Padme herself would be too closely watched. Bail had a little more professional distance, at least so far as anyone knew. If direct contact had to be made (beyond handwritten letters left at dead drops; letters she couldn’t bring herself to burn like she knew she should; a part of her wondered if  _ he _ was burning the ones  _ she _ had Bail leave), it would have to come from him. But they had to  _ agree _ to the breach in protocol.

“I think this situation calls for it,” she said. “Let me...let me know what you hear?”

“Of course,” he said, and stood up. “I have some routine documents to send you, I’ll include the video with them. You remember this week’s code for the filename?”

“Yes, of course,” she said. It was their usual code. They were still on enough of the same committees--for refugees, for education, other basic services--that a flurry of data going between her office and his was a perfect cover. “Will you let Mon know?”

“As soon as I get a chance,” he said. “After I speak with our other friends.”

Even here, even where they knew they were safe, there were some words they didn’t dare speak.

“Of course,” she said. “Good luck.”

He smiled, and let himself out.

She stayed on the couch for a moment more, picking up the baby book and turning it over and over in her hands.

_ Butterflies, _ she reminded herself.  _ Act normal. Just be Mommy today. Put on your smile, put on his shoes, and go out and chase the butterflies. Right now, that’s all--you can’t do anything else right now. So do that. _

“Dorme,” she finally said.

“Yes, milady?”

“We need a contingency plan. A cover story, if I send Luke to stay with Sola for a while.”

She nodded. “Motee and I have a list of possibilities. We can narrow it down and finalize when you get back from the park?”

“Good,” she said, then stood up. “Think Sabe got his shoes on?”

“I think Sabe is probably two inches from screaming and absolutely  _ covered _ in fingerpaint,” Dorme said dryly.

“...yeah, that’s probably more likely,” she agreed, and smiled--a real smile. “I’ll go rescue her.”

“Good luck,” Dorme said, then turned back to her equipment.

Shaking her head, Padme headed back to the bedroom to do battle with Luke and his shoes and his stubborn, toddler brain once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol what even are children.
> 
> Um. Yeah, sorry for any...there are no tiny ones in my life right now, so I can't vouch for the accuracy of how Luke is being written here. Apologies for any major errors. <3
> 
> ~shadowsong


	21. Part 3, Chapter 3

There were days when Obi-Wan felt he had accomplished very little over the past two years. For the most part, of course, he knew that was simply a matter of perspective--progress _was_ being made. But for every Imperial installation he or Anakin or another resistance cell disrupted or destroyed, Palpatine had at least another dozen waiting in the wings. Looking at the raw data, such as it was, it was difficult not to get discouraged.

On the other hand--well, there were pockets of resistance spread all over the galaxy, and for every one the Empire wiped out, at least one or two more rose up somewhere. It wasn’t much, but it was still something. The fight continued, inch by inch; and their impact, while small, was still _there._

Besides, this was going to be a _long_ war. He knew that. He always had, from the very start, when they proved incapable of deposing Palpatine in the immediate aftermath of his takeover. As long as he kept reminding himself of that, as long as he was able to maintain that perspective, he could be patient. He could hold on to hope.

So he did what he could with his own hands, and made contact with as many rebel cells as he could. While very few actually knew who he was--there were too few Jedi left; he couldn’t risk too much on that score--he was gradually drawing his contacts into a loose network. A network, so they could share information and eventually supplies (once he had secure lines in place, which was still a work in progress). But loose, so that if--when--one cell was compromised, it didn’t bring them all down. It was safer that way, at least for now. Obi-Wan knew that.

But he was often extremely conscious of how _fragile_ it all was. Even as independent as he had kept things, it wouldn’t take much to unravel things. The web was held together only by his efforts and the coded data he sent Bail (so that if _he_ fell, they wouldn’t crumble). He was keeping an eye out for other recruits he could put in coordinating positions, but so far even the most promising leaders had to focus on keeping their own cells going.

In time, he knew, it would grow, and strengthen. He just had to hold things together until then. Until the web was truly self-sustaining. They just had to last that long. And, to be fair, on most days, he was confident they would.

Of course, on most days, he wasn’t kept waiting for contact from a cell that had gone dark for a mission, and was now over an hour late getting back in touch. Add in the fact that said cell was _Anakin…_

Well, today was not a particularly hopeful day.

 _I’m sure he’s fine,_ he told himself. _I would_ know _if he weren’t._

The problem was, he _hadn’t_ known the last time Anakin had been in serious danger--but, of course, given everything _else_ that had happened that day, even their bond had been drowned out. Those circumstances were not a factor now, and never would be again. So this time, he would know.

But it wasn’t _like_ Anakin to be late like this. Oh, he would still drop off the grid sometimes, but even at his most evasive, back during the war, he would at the very least check in via comm after a dangerous mission before disappearing again.

_Something’s gone wrong._

Maybe not quite to the point where Anakin was in _serious_ danger, or at least not yet, but still something. Particularly given Anakin’s extraordinary talent for finding trouble.

 _A talent which is matched by his ability to find his way back_ out _again,_ he reminded himself. And that helped, somewhat.

Still.

 _I’ll give him another hour,_ Obi-Wan decided. _If I haven’t heard from him by then, I’ll--_

At last, interrupting his increasingly gloomy thoughts, his comm buzzed at him--the private one, that only Anakin, Bail Organa, and Beru Lars knew about.

 _Oh, thank the Force,_ he thought, and accepted the call.

Anakin’s hologram flickered to life. “Sorry it took so long,” he said, not wasting any time on a greeting. Which, to be fair, wasn’t unusual--they were never sure how long these conversations would stay secure.

“Well, you’re calling now,” Obi-Wan said, feeling a knot of tension at the nape of his neck ease. Anakin was upright, clear-eyed, coherent--unharmed by whatever had delayed him. “What happened? Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I’m not hurt,” he said. “Mission went fine, too. Blew up the depot, got away clean.”

“Good to hear.” A significant disruption to that particular mining operation might buy them as much as week or two of breathing room while similar resources were brought in from other sectors. There was some sort of massive infrastructure project going on, but Obi-Wan had the sneaking suspicion he was only seeing the vague outline of it. And, whatever it was, it was _massive._ So, the more delays, the likelier it was he would be able to fill in the gaps before Palpatine inflicted any more disasters upon the galaxy. And the quotas for the moon in question had nearly tripled over the last eight weeks, which meant it was worthy of immediate attention. “Any hints as to why they were stepping up production?” he asked.

Anakin shook his head. “Nothing I could find. I looked, but…” He shrugged.

“Well, we’ll piece it together soon enough, I’m sure,” he said.

“Yeah,” he said, then paused.

“Something wrong?”

“Uh. No,” he said. “There _was_ a complication.”

Which Obi-Wan had known; otherwise he wouldn’t have been so late checking in.

But before he could ask, Anakin hastily added, “I’m fine, everything’s fine, but I had to sort of adjust my plans a little because I found Rex.”

Obi-Wan blinked and sat back a bit, taking that in and trying to quickly process everything it might mean.

They’d been fortunate, until now, in that neither of them had run across any clones they knew personally, but it had only been a matter of time. It was difficult, even after two years and much repetition, to deal with strangers with a too-familiar face. It certainly couldn’t have been easy, for either Anakin or Rex, given...everything. Because no matter how much the clones were victims, too--well, memory was often irrational. Particularly when the circumstances were this painful.

At least, from everything Anakin had said thus far, the meeting couldn’t have gone _badly._

“His chip’s gone,” Anakin went on, hiding his hands in his sleeves the way he always did when he was nervous and wanted to keep himself from fidgeting. “I made sure of it. It’s safe. _He’s_ safe. A-and I know we said we wouldn’t go looking, but he was _there,_ on the planet, and I couldn’t _not_ approach him, so I--”

“I understand,” Obi-Wan said, holding up a hand to cut him off. “Where is he now? Is he with you?”

He nodded. “Yeah.” He paused again. “Is--are you okay with that?”

Obi-Wan’s impulse was to just immediately say yes, of _course--_ the clones were victims, too, after all. But instead he took a breath, and gave the question the attention it deserved. It wasn’t an simple one, even if the objective truth was clear. And he had walked through the ruined Temple, where Rex had been that day; he had _seen_ what had been done, and…

This was _not_ a question he could answer impulsively. It wasn’t fair to anyone involved.

He closed his eyes for a moment, weighing all the factors and seeking clarity and confirmation from the Force.

 _Would I have done anything different, if it were Cody?_ he asked himself.

 _If I were sure--_ absolutely _sure--he was fully himself now...no, I would have done the same._

So, “Yes,” he said, opening his eyes, and the rightness of it settled over him like a blanket, warm and comforting. “Yes, I’m fine with it.”

Anakin brightened, and the hands came out of his sleeves again. “Oh, good. I was--good. That’s good.” He grinned. “Rex helped me with the depot.”

“I imagine he would have,” Obi-Wan said. “He’s all right, too?”

“Yeah, he’s fine. We’re heading to the farm.”

“Ah.” Well, if Obi-Wan had had any misgivings left about the whole situation, they would have melted away at that. Anakin may have been heartrendingly cavalier about his _own_ safety, but he would never do _anything_ that might put his daughter at risk. “Give Leia a kiss for me, will you?”

“Always,” Anakin said. “Will you meet us?”

It was a tempting thought--it had been over a month since he had last seen the child, and they grew so _fast_ at this age. He had no idea how much he was missing.

But he still had a few things to wrap up in this sector. “I’ll try,” he finally said. “No promises. If I don’t meet you there, next week I’ll be at the rendezvous point where we met Jaira, you remember where that is?”

Anakin rolled his eyes and sighed theatrically. “How could I forget? I think I _still_ have mud in my hair.”

“Given that it was eight years ago,” Obi-Wan said dryly, “I very much doubt that.”

“If you say so, Master.”

He bit back a grin, and was about to give a clever reply when the commlink vibrated--a system they’d set up, to warn them when they’d been on too long. Enough time to share important information, while limiting the chances of interception.

“Ah. Time’s up, I’m afraid,” he said.

“Right,” Anakin said. “I’ll see you soon, then.”

He nodded. “May the Force be with you, my friend.”

“You, too.” And with that, Anakin signed off, leaving Obi-Wan once again alone with his thoughts.

Better ones, though. He knew it was a mistake, letting himself draw so much comfort from his little brother and his family, but he couldn’t quite stop himself. Whether or not Anakin was the Chosen One ( _and forgive me, Qui-Gon, but I’m no longer certain I believe in the Prophecy at all; I’m no longer sure I_ care), he _was_ a beacon of hope. At least for Obi-Wan. At least for now.

 _When things are stabler, when the network is more secure, I can be better about that,_ Obi-Wan promised himself. _But if this gets me through until then…_

For now, he put the thought aside. He was going to try and make contact with some old allies on Mon Cala, and he should check the dead drops, and then he would meet Anakin and they could plan the next few weeks’ strategy, and--

The commlink buzzed again.

Obi-Wan stared at it for a minute, then picked it up.

 _Something has changed,_ the Force whispered to him.

And when he checked the message--a few lines of text, not a holocall or even voice-only--the tension started to creep back up his spine.

It was from Bail.

Who, in two years of communicating through messages and supplies and intelligence left at dead drops, had _never_ used this frequency.

He took a breath, let it out slowly, and opened and decoded the message.

A set of coordinates; a time--three days from now.

And that was all.

Something _had_ changed, something significant enough that the Senator was willing to risk an in-person meeting. Just _requesting_ such a thing was...

“Oh, I have a bad feeling about this,” he said to himself, as he plugged the coordinates into the navicomputer.

If he got moving now, he would just barely make it in time.

For a moment, he hesitated, considering calling Anakin back. Sending him the same coordinates. If it was _this_ important, maybe they should both be there.

On the other hand, if it went wrong, better at least one of them was free to maneuver. Anakin could rescue him and Bail, if need be.

 _I’ll contact him while I’m on the way,_ he decided. _Let him know I’m taking a risky meeting, and to be on standby just in case._ That would have to be enough.

Hoping very much that he was making the right call, he waited a few seconds for the navigational calculations to complete, then took a breath and made the first jump to lightspeed.


	22. Part 3, Chapter 4

Anakin brought them in through Bestine. It was one of the farther settlements from the farm, and had more soldiers than the other cities, but he hadn’t used that spaceport in months. Anonymity outweighed the other concerns. He tried to switch up his approach at random--usually he had Artoo pick the landing site and fake transponder he’d use for the _Waterfall;_ today, she was the _Blue Giant_ instead.

He picked his own name, though. None of his false IDs would pass muster on an actual _civilized_ planet, but out here, as long as he had enough money (or applied a half-decent mind trick) no one would care.

“Sir?” Rex asked, while he was sorting through the cards, trying to pick one. “Can I ask--what exactly are we doing here?”

Which was a fair question. It wasn’t exactly a secret how much Anakin disliked this place, after all. And maybe he was rushing this a little, but he could _feel_ how wary Rex was, how much he distrusted Anakin’s trust in him.

It was an uncomfortable tangle, and he’d spent too damn long in one too similar to let this go on any longer than he absolutely had to.

Besides, he was officially between missions until Obi-Wan called again, and that meant going to see Leia.

 _This one,_ he decided, putting the rest of the ident cards back behind the hidden panel in his pilot seat. _I like this one._ It was a little obvious, maybe, but it felt like home. It would bring him--luck.

He slid the card into his pocket and stood up. “You’ll see.”

And, yeah, the way he was doing this was maybe a _little_ unfair, but he was really looking forward to Rex’s face when he saw Leia for the first time. It would be better if she was a surprise.

Besides. It wasn’t often that _he_ got an opportunity to be the enigmatic one. He was almost looking forward to it.

“Right,” Rex said.

“Artoo, you know the drill.”

The droid beeped out a few profanities and settled into his usual spot, ready to quickstart the ship if things went south on them.

“Yeah, you too, buddy,” he said, patting his dome and heading for the boarding ramp, pulling his hood up. “Rex, if anyone asks, my name’s Ben Naberrie.”

“Right,” he said. “I’ve...uh, just been using my name?”

“That’s fine,” he said. “We’ve got a bit of a hike to where we’re going.”

“Won’t be a problem, sir.”

He nodded. “Knew it wouldn’t be.” He grinned, and led the way out of the ship. Once past spaceport control, they’d have to pick up a pair of eopies--they’d hold up better over the distance than a speeder.

And, as he’d expected, they hadn’t had any trouble with the officials in Bestine. He hadn’t even had to pull out a mind trick, and no one had tried to follow them. Either to the livestock market or out of the town.

It was nice, having Rex here with him, he realized as they made their way into the desert proper. Partly as another layer of camouflage--he almost always came to Tatooine alone; while he and Obi-Wan did sometimes come straight here after a mission, it was more typical for his master meet him here for visits--and partly as a distraction.

When Anakin travelled through the desert alone, the sky seemed to weigh down on him, overburdened with everything he’d seen and done here.

 _Another advantage to Bestine,_ he thought, as Bestine disappeared into the heat haze behind them and Rex started attacking his question, just like Anakin had known he would. _I never travelled this route before Leia came to live here. If I have time, maybe I’ll loop around in the future._

Something to think about. For next time.

 

* * *

 

They reached the farm about four hours after double noon, with sundown still a ways off.

“Here we are,” Anakin said, leaping down off his eopie and staking her in place.

“Right,” Rex replied, dismounting with a little more decorum.

He had barely had time to finish tying their mounts down when a tiny comet launched herself out of the house, barreling right into him.

“Daddy!” Leia shouted. “Daddydaddydaddy!”

Behind him, he was vaguely aware of Rex stiffening, and possibly--probably--swearing under his breath in startled Mando’a.

That didn’t matter, though. Nothing mattered anymore, all of his problems melting away as he stooped down to catch Leia before she tripped and went flying.

Which, of course, meant she promptly grabbed onto the closest, most convenient handhold to steady herself.

“Ow--okay, princess, we talked about this--ow-- _please don’t pull Daddy’s hair._ ”

She obligingly untangled one sticky hand--he _still_ hadn’t figured out how the hell she was so sticky all the time; but Beru said it was just a toddler thing and he’d long since decided to accept her wisdom on such matters.

“Thank you,” he said, holding her close and kissing her cheek.

“Daddy!” was her response, and she grinned at him.

“Missed you, too, princess,” he said. “Have you been good for Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru?”

“Uh-huh!” She nodded vigorously, bouncing a little in his arms.

“Good,” he said. “That’s exactly what I like to hear.”

She giggled and nestled closer, leaning her head on his shoulder, and _finally_ getting her other hand out of his hair.

“Listen,” he said. “There’s someone I want you to meet.” He turned around, and Rex was there, looking exactly as poleaxed as Anakin had expected.

_He’ll probably forgive me. Eventually. ...worth it._

“This is Daddy’s friend Rex,” he told Leia. “Can you say hi?”

“Hi,” she said dutifully, waving.

Rex just stared.

“Rex, this is my daughter, Leia,” Anakin prompted.

No response.

_Oops._

“Uh-oh,” he said softly. “I think Daddy broke Rex, princess.”

Leia pulled back and stared at him, her tiny eyebrows furrowing into what would probably be a very impressive glare if she weren’t two and tiny and the cutest child in the known universe.

“Daddy, _mean.”_

“I didn’t do it on purpose!”

“Say sorry,” she demanded.

Since arguing with Leia was about as productive as arguing with--

He held her a little closer, and grinned at Rex, scrambling to cover that spike of pain. This was a happy moment. “Sorry,” he said. “Want to try again?”

His captain finally managed to find his voice. “I. Uh.”

 _I’ll take that as a yes._ “Rex, this is my daughter, Leia.”

“Uh. Hello, _ad’ika.”_

That word he knew, at least vaguely. Or he knew ‘ika’ was a diminutive suffix, anyway. _Much better._

“Hi,” Leia said again, then wriggled a little. “Daddy, down.”

 _No,_ he wanted to say. He wanted to keep holding her for a little while longer.

But he’d learned a lot, in the last two years of being a parent.

“All right,” he said. “But stay right here, where you can touch Daddy’s robe, okay?” With him and Rex right here, the worst risk was her getting under the eopies’ feet, but better not to take chances.

She nodded, and he put her down.

“You...you have a daughter,” Rex said.

“I do.”

“So...so you and the Senator really _were...”_

It was Anakin’s turn to stare. “Me and--did _everyone_ know?”

Rex coughed and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Uh. Not that--you know, not that there was any chance of a little one, but…we could all see how you felt about her, sir. Uh. Sorry.”

Anakin buried his face in his hands. “Daddy’s an idiot, princess,” he announced.

Leia blinked up at him. “Uh-huh,” she said.

Rex was suppressing laughter. He could _hear_ him.

He was about to retaliate when--

“Ani! I thought I heard you out here.” Beru, smiling bright and exaggerating just a little (because she would _never_ have let Leia run up here if she hadn’t known there was someone to catch her), was standing on the stairs, leaning against the wall with a towel in her hands.

“Aunt Ru!” Leia said, bouncing up and tripping on the hem of Anakin’s cloak. He caught her he by the collar and steadied her carefully.

“Easy, princess,” he said. “Hey, Beru. This is Rex.”

“Nice to meet you,” she said. “I’m Anakin’s sister-in-law.”

“Pleased to meet you as well,” Rex said, with a sketch of a salute.

“Owen’s out on the ridge, but he’ll be back soon,” she said. “Why don’t you two come inside, have some water?”

“That would be great,” Anakin said, scooping Leia up again. “After you?”

She nodded, and led the way down into the slightly-cooler underground house. Anakin felt the last of the desert’s weight slip off his shoulders as he ducked under the doorway, his daughter in his arms and Rex at his back.

If only Obi-Wan and Padme and Luke could be here, it would be _perfect._

 

* * *

 

Specter’s work was now public, and it was _almost_ the most pleasing thing he had ever experienced. True, it was hardly the debut he’d been dreaming of in the two years since his Master had found and elevated him, but he still relished watching the whispers and dread spread through the Senate and beyond.

It hadn’t even been a particularly flashy or spectacular kill, the kind Specter knew he was capable of. The kind he was _burning_ to try on something a little more _real_ than the assassin droids he trained with.

Because yes, of course, his Master was right; a shadow appearing out of nowhere to kill swiftly and mercilessly and then vanish without a trace inspired terror. _Delicious_ terror. More, perhaps, than a messier murder might.

But Specter had _known_ how to do that--or most of it, anyway--since he was a child. He knew how to melt into shadows, how to perfect an ambush, how to stalk his prey. He had certain biological advantages there, of course, to say nothing of the Force, but any half-decent pickpocket from the underlevels could do it.

Not as well as _him,_ of course, but they _could._

He sighed, and toyed with his lightsaber for a minute. The fact was, as successful as it had been, as pleasant as the victory tasted, his first actual mission as the newly-minted official Sith Lord _Darth_ Specter had been just...unsatisfying.

It also concerned him. That he had been given such _limiting_ instructions. That he was still not trusted with an actual display of _power._

He had not been his Master’s first choice. He knew that all too well. Lord Sidious never failed to take advantage of an opportunity to remind Specter that he was _vastly_ inferior.

That he was not, nor could he ever be, Anakin Skywalker.

Specter snarled to himself, and flipped on his lightsaber. He meditated on the crimson blade for a minute, imagining it plunging into his rival’s chest.

Well. Maybe not his _chest._ Maybe he’d start somewhere a little less...immediately fatal. Really take his time. Have some _fun_ with it.

That, Specter knew, would demonstrate how strong and skilled he was. That would show his Master he had chosen well. _That_ would prove him to be a worthy apprentice.

And it was the _only_ thing that would.

Best of all, as he had learned only hours ago, it was actually _possible._

Specter had spent the last two years competing, ironically, with a ghost. He and his Master had suspected that Skywalker may have been one of those few who had survived the execution of the Jedi, but had had no proof. And his Master had decreed it a lesser priority, and he had obeyed.

But _now,_ Specter had a recording of his own. It was even poorer quality than the one he’d left, unfortunately, but it was clear enough for him. After all, he knew Skywalker’s face almost as well as his own now--maybe even better, he hated him so.

To him, grainy as it was, the footage of the exploding mine was quite illuminating.

His rival was alive.

His rival could be _killed._

All he had to do now was find him.

“And when I do,” he murmured, the soft hum of his lightsaber a perfect accompaniment to his vow, “when I find you, Skywalker, you will burn. And _I_ will rise from the ashes.”

And once he did, nothing would stand in his way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol what even are children: the sequel.


	23. Part 3, Chapter 5

The problem with being a very public figure was that it made setting a clandestine meeting with a wanted fugitive--let alone one so recognizable as General Kenobi--a logistical nightmare. Bail couldn’t go anywhere out of the way enough that the Jedi could show his face openly, not without exciting comment. And, unlike those first terrible weeks, the galactic political situation was largely stable enough that he couldn’t simply disappear for a few days without questions.

Not for the first time, as he had approached this problem, Bail wished that Alderaan shared Naboo’s custom for using body doubles.

But, as they did not, he’d had to come up with another solution. When he couldn’t, he’d done what he always did in such situations--he’d asked Breha for advice.

When she had answered the call, she’d had their daughter on her lap. Which, naturally, meant five very important minutes of making silly faces before he could take care of any other business. But then he had posed his question at last--carefully, of course; preserving the plausible deniability she’d asked him for when this all began. The conversation itself, at least, was secure enough that he didn’t need to be  _ too _ opaque beyond that.

“Demarix,” Breha had said immediately. “Set it up there.”

He’d blinked, a little surprised. “Really?” It was small, out of the way--primarily arid plains and rocky pasture, some mediocre farmland on the primary landmass, but too far out of the way to be much exploited. Yet. So it would do well to keep the General safe, but  _ he _ might still have some issues justifying his visit.

“Yes,” she’d said, gently prying her necklace out of their daughter’s hands. “They’ve recently had some massive seismic disturbances in the southern hemisphere. I received a petition for aid this morning.”

Ah. Yes, of course, that would solve several problems at once--his own, General Kenobi’s, and hopefully Demarix’s citizens’ as well. Trust Breha to have the answers.

“Thank you,” he’d said. “I’ll pick up the relevant supplies and head there directly.”

She’d smiled. “Wonderful. Everything’s in place, of course. If you hadn’t called, I was going to reach out before assigning someone else.” She’d paused for a second, then added, hopefully, “Will you come home for a few days, after?”

“I will,” he’d promised. It had been a while--too long--since he’d last seen his wife and daughter in person. Holocalls like this one, while frequent, were not the same. And, yes, that was the life he’d chosen as a Senator (as a rebel), but he’d  _ missed _ them.

“Yay!” The baby bounced in her mother’s lap, clapping her hands.

“We look forward to seeing you,” Breha had said, then glanced off to one side and sighed. “But I have a budget meeting I’m now officially late for, and I know you have your own preparations to make.”

Sadly true. But he’d see his family soon enough. “All right,” he’d said. “I’ll see you in a week or so. I love you both.”

“Love you, too,” she’d said.

“Bye bye, Daddy!”

“Bye bye!” He’d smiled at them both and waved for his daughter, then switched off the comm and gotten to work.

From there, the arrangements had been simple enough to make. He’d told Captain Antilles where they were going, then sent General Kenobi a coded message with a time to meet and a location a few hours north of where they’d set up their base, on one of Demarix’s sparsely-populated plains. He’d been fairly sure he’d be able to slip away unnoticed for a few hours--this type of relief work almost always had just enough of a cover of controlled chaos for that.

That had been three days ago. Bail and his people had arrived yesterday, and gotten things set up. He’d met with the planetary leadership for several hours, to get more detail about their specific needs. And now, that being done, he had the cover he needed to slip away.

He nodded to Captain Antilles, then returned to the ship. Officially, he was communicating with Alderaan and coordinating the additional, updated aid and supplies. In reality, his trusted staff would handle that for him, while he snuck out on a speeder bike they’d brought along for this very purpose.

His people could cover for him for about half a standard day. Enough time to go to his meeting, deliver his message, and return.

He was, unfortunately, running a little behind schedule--almost an hour late; General Kenobi had beaten him there.

The Jedi was sitting on a rock, cloaked and hiding his face. There were scorch marks and wear patterns on his robe that hadn’t been there the last time Bail had seen him, but he seemed otherwise all right. Bail was relieved to see it.

Kenobi tracked his approach and rose gracefully as the bike came to a halt.

“I was beginning to think I’d misread your message,” he said, dropping his hood back.

“I  apologize. It took me a little longer to get away than I thought it would,” Bail said, then paused before adding, “It...it is good to see you again.” The circumstances were, of course, awful, but…

“Yes,” the General agreed quietly.

For a moment, neither of them spoke, then Bail pulled out his datapad.  _ Might as well get the unpleasantness over with as quickly as possible.  _ “I need to show you this,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

Kenobi raised an eyebrow and said nothing, nodding at him to start the recording.

He did so, and then quickly looked away. He’d watched Senator Alavar’s murder more than enough times already. If he never had to see it again, it would be too soon.

Fortunately, the General only felt the need to watch it once.

“I see,” he said. “Thank you, for bringing this to me.”

“Of course,” he said, with a half bow. “This is all I have at present. We’re working on enhancing the footage, but…” He shook his head. “I know none of this is what you were hoping to hear.”

He shrugged. “No. But it’s not entirely unexpected, either.” He paused, then added. “It... _ is _ coming rather sooner than we’d anticipated, though.”

Well, that was...it made Bail feel marginally less awful, to know that the Jedi had planned for this. Of course, the fact that this being had apparently shown up too soon  _ might _ mean a prodigy of some sort, which could mean disaster. Or, on the other hand, it might mean Palpatine was rushing things,  _ finally _ making a mistake they could exploit.

Or, possibly--

A horrifying thought occurred to him.

“You don’t...you don’t think he’s someone…” He trailed off, unable to quite put it into words.

_ What if this is another survivor, someone Palpatine found and broke? _

But, to his relief, General Kenobi shook his head. “I...can’t be certain, not without more information, of course, but I don’t think so.”

“Good,” he said. “That would be...”

“The worst-case scenario,” he said. “I do try not to go there too often.”

And that was a reminder, now that the immediate necessity had been taken care of. “Padme asked if...she’s worried,” he said. “Do we need to move Luke?”

“No,” he said, immediately. “It doesn’t…” He paused, as if considering the best way to explain. “The protections we built for him, either they work or they don’t. Barring a savant from outside the galaxy, who interacts with the Force in a way completely foreign to our understanding...this doesn’t change anything. He is no less safe than he was before.”

_ Oh, good. _ “I’ll tell her,” he said.

“How are they?” he asked. “I didn’t tell Anakin who I was meeting--I didn’t want him to panic until there was a reason to--but once he’s through being cross with me over that, he’ll want to know.”

“They’re doing well,” Bail said. “It’s...hard, sometimes, for Padme, I think.”  _ She still feels guilty, for her part in this. And there’s very little I can do to convince her otherwise, because she knows it’s not really her fault; she  _ knows _ it’s irrational, but… _ “But she’s getting by. The letters make all the difference, I think.” Which, as soon as he said it, he realized he wasn’t entirely sure General Kenobi  _ knew _ about those.

But he nodded. “Anakin’s much the same,” he said, with a wry smile. “He has most of her letters memorized, I think.”

_ Oh, good. I was hoping I hadn’t overstepped.  _ “We’re making some progress, and that helps, too. Not quite enough to start more overt coordination with your network but...well, maybe in a few years.”

“Right,” General Kenobi said. “Unless something else changes, we’re in a similar situation on our end. We’ll see how things go.”

_ And that--that being, the one in the video, could change everything. _ But, like the General had said, imagining the worst-case scenario was far from productive. Bail chose to focus on happy things instead-- _ hopeful _ things. “And Luke, of course, lights up any room he’s in.”

“Yes, I imagine he would,” he said, then paused. Almost wistfully, he asked, “I don’t suppose you have any pictures?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.” He picked up the datapad--it did feel a little odd, keeping baby pictures on the same machine as something so awful, but this was his personal ‘pad, the one he always carried with him; the one that had every defense against slicing or mirroring his security could come up with. All of his most valuable data--whether deadly or precious--was on here. 

He skimmed through until he found the right directory. “Here--” He called up a picture of Luke, with his head tilted looking quizzically up at the camera, covered in bright yellow paint. “I took this...oh, I think two weeks ago? Padme and I, and a few others in our coalition, were interrupted when he got away from his minders.”

General Kenobi laughed, and Bail smiled to himself at the sound. It was a very nice one, and he had a sneaking suspicion it was a rare one, these days. “Could I have a copy?” he asked. “To show Anakin, of course.”

“Of course,” Bail said.

“Thank you,” he replied. He tapped the screen idly, probably hoping to see another picture of Luke, and instead landed on one Breha had sent the day before. “Oh, and this must be your daughter!”

“Yes,” he said, grinning. “She’s a few months older than Luke--I’ve never brought her to Coruscant, so they haven’t met yet, but someday, I like to think they’ll be friends.”

“Someday,” he agreed. “She’s beautiful.”

“She is.” Because, really, that should be obvious to anyone with eyes. And then, as long as they were sharing… “Do you have any pictures of Leia?”

General Kenobi ducked his head a little. “I have one,” he admitted. “Which I shouldn’t carry, I know--it’ safer that way--but...well.” He pulled out a datapad of his own and called it up. She was sitting in her father’s lap; General Skywalker was pointing something out to her, and she was staring up at it in wonder.

“She’s adorable,” he said. “They look happy.”

“She is, when I’ve seen her,” he said. “And he is, when he’s holding her.”

“Good,” he said. Though the way he’d phrased it was--well, given the realities of the work Skywalker was doing, it made sense. But it was a sad story. One of far too many for such a young family to bear.

_ We’ll make the next ones better, _ he thought, looking down at the picture again.  _ For all three of the children. _

Kenobi watched him for a minute, as if weighing something internally, then said, “I can give you a copy. To show Padme. You probably shouldn’t keep it, but…”

“Thank you,” Bail said, sincerely. Even if they had to destroy the file afterwards, for Padme to get just a glimpse of the family she’d left behind was too great a gift to refuse.

It was the work of a few seconds to send the files--the pictures of the children, and a copy of the security tape--to one another, working their way through all the relevant encryptions. And, no sooner had they finished, that Bail’s datapad beeped at him.

“Ah,” he said. “That would be Captain Antilles. I have to get back.”

The General nodded, putting his own datapad away again. “And I shouldn’t stay much longer anyway. You have work to do, and I have some news to deliver.”

“At least not all of it’s bad?”

“At least,” he agreed. “You’ll let me know, if you learn anything else about our new friend?”

“Of course,” he said. “Be safe. Please.”

He smiled faintly. “As much as I can.” He pulled his hood up and bowed. “May the Force be with you, Senator.”

“And with you,” Bail replied softly, before turning back to his speeder and leaving his clandestine meeting with a wanted fugitive behind; ready to resume his role as a very public figure once more.


	24. Part 3, Chapter 6

Specter had delivered concrete evidence, in the form of a poor-quality surveillance video, that Skywalker had survived the attack on the Temple. He had presented this to Sidious in much the same way a pet feline might provide its owner with a dead rodent--full of smug satisfaction for a gesture that was neither necessary nor particularly wanted.

Particularly since Sidious, of course, had already _known_ . He had suspected from the beginning, of course; he had never sensed Skywalker’s death. Besides, he knew rather intimately how the young man operated, and certain acts of rebellious sabotage over the last year and a half were _clearly_ the work of his erstwhile protege. It was vexing to think that his current apprentice thought he needed further proof than that.

The boy was chomping at the bit now, all too eager to hunt down and kill his rival. Sidious, however, did not consider Skywalker’s removal a priority at this time. So he had sent Specter off to accomplish more productive tasks, and set himself to re-examining his candidate list. Sooner or later, after all, the confrontation that Specter so craved would happen. And, at present, it was unlikely to end in the boy’s favor.

Well, Sidious had learned the value of backup plans. The next time, though, he thought he would perhaps start with a more _mature_ candidate. Children were easier to manipulate, to mold; but often proved volatile and irritatingly undisciplined.

Still, he did not intend--yet--to replace Specter as a response to his performance, simply to be prepared for the increasingly-likely necessity of doing so. The boy’s excess of enthusiasm would be curbed, and had not caused any difficulties or failures. Merely annoyance. As did his attitude towards the tape and all it represented.

Sidious paused for a moment, picking up the datastick and turning it over in his hands as a thought occurred.

Perhaps there was a use for the dead-rodent recording after all.

_He_ had known for some time that Skywalker still lived. The question was--had certain other interested parties been aware?

Yes, he would keep Specter a while longer, despite his adolescent exuberance. The boy had potential, and had, if unwittingly, provided his master with an interesting opportunity.

He summoned Senator Amidala to his presence and set the grainy recording playing on a loop in the center of the audience chamber.

When she arrived moments later, and saw what he had laid out for her, her outward behavior was almost entirely perfect. Nothing in her expression showed her response to the security footage of her presumed-dead lover; she didn’t miss a step. Then again, she had been performing politics since she was a child, and he had expected no less. But that didn’t mean there was _no_ reaction; her breath caught very slightly in her throat, and she carefully avoided looking at the hologram, even as she knelt less than a meter away from it.

Internally, of course, she was a storm. Her thoughts flickered madly between the boy she had adopted and her daughter’s grave. There was a deep well of mingled terror and grief and defiance backing it up.

_...hm._

Uninformed, non-sensitive imbeciles tended to assume the Force bestowed the ability to read minds, as clearly and accurately as reading text on a screen. This was, at best, a vast oversimplification. He could see Amidala’s thoughts and feelings, of course, as plainly as if she were projecting them right alongside the security footage. The trouble was that specific _words_ were rare, unless deliberately projected. Which left what he saw open to a certain amount of interpretation.

She _was_ surprised by the footage. That much he knew for certain. She had covered quickly, but not quite quickly enough. And, while that could have been because she was unaware that Skywalker lived, it could have been only that she was unaware such recent images existed, and had been caught off guard.

And while she was not sensitive and so could not shield, as such, she was all too aware of how she presented herself to him, so apart from that first ambiguous, tangled flash of raw feeling, her reaction was overshadowed by how she felt about _Sidious._

This was not the first time such a thing had happened. True, he continued to conceal his true identity as a Sith Lord from all but a select few, but he had abandoned the kindly, avuncular mask he had worn for so long as no longer necessary.

And, for the most part, it wasn’t. But when it _was,_ he could no longer assume the pretense as he once had. Scars aside, some masks simply could not be replaced with any sort of credibility.

“You sent for me, Majesty?” Amidala asked softly, breaking the silence after nearly a full minute. She kept her eyes lowered, her shoulders deceptively relaxed, but he could practically taste her desperate defiance in the air; a blunt, stubborn refusal to give him the satisfaction of seeing her pain.

But whether her grief was at the sudden reminder of a long separation, or at a perceived betrayal, at having been deceived by the father of her dead child...

“Yes,” he said, sinking back into his throne. Another test, then, was in order. She had made no suspect communications, with Skywalker or any other undesirables. But, then again, he hadn’t really given her much of an opportunity to do so, as he had with certain other Senators and officials he suspected. And Padme Amidala had never been particularly good at restraining herself. If he gave her an opening, she was bound to leap through it. “Recently, as you can see, there was a traitorous act of sabotage at a mining facility.”

“I condemn such acts when I learn of them,” she said quickly--a hair too quickly, but that was due to simple fear, mere desperation to keep her head on her shoulders. She camouflaged it better than most, but it still shone through.

“Yes,” he said. “I am sending you to oversee a portion of the reconstruction. Several of the miners lost their homes, among other assets. You are, I believe, no stranger to such mercy missions?”

Her eyes flicked up to the recording, just for an instant, and she _knew_ it was a trap.

_But knowing and avoiding are not, in fact, the same thing,_ he thought, amused by the wild patterns her thoughts carved under her skin. _Whether or not you manage to sidestep now, when the time is right, my dear, you will make extremely effective bait._

“No, Majesty, I am not,” she said quietly.

“You may go and prepare,” he said. “I expect a report on your progress within three days.”

She bowed, then rose and left the room, again studiously avoiding looking at the hologram still flickering between them.

Sidious deactivated it with an impatient wave of his hand. That had been a reasonably productive interview, though he hadn’t quite gotten what he wanted out of Amidala. He had set her on a path that would likely lead there, at least. And there would, he was certain, be further opportunities in the future.

More importantly, it had solidified his understanding of a weak point in his regime. He no longer had the access he once did to unguarded thoughts, unguarded reactions. Oh, professional politicians were always careful about such things, but not to this extent.

What he had gained in exchange for that camouflage, of course, was worth the price and more, but the simple fact was that he might be missing key details. This placed certain... _limitations_...on his ability to manipulate the beings in his domain; and it made it marginally likelier that a traitor might actually cause some damage before they were detected and brought down.

He could not regain what he had lost--so, much as he had had to substitute the lesser talents of Specter for all he had cultivated in Anakin Skywalker, he would need an alternative. A proxy. One who could observe and wrangle the Senators, the Moffs, the High Command, as he had five years ago.

And, naturally, one over whom he had absolute control.

Specter, of course, would never function in that capacity. The boy was a thief in the night, an assassin; not the kind of person people ignored. Not the way Sidious needed his proxy to be ignored. Besides, he had no intention of putting that much authority in a single person’s hands.

As for Tarkin and the rest, even if he were willing to invest that much influence in any one of them, those he had elevated had been promoted for other talents. Ones incompatible with what he needed now.

There _was_ a possibility--one of the potential candidates for Specter’s successor; a woman named Daya. She could be trained and presented as someone merely ornamental. Decorative. She lacked the raw power he wanted in an apprentice, but had enough strength to learn a few subtle tricks.

On the other hand, she had already committed at least three murders that he knew of, though none could be tied to her legally. She might, like Specter, have too much of an independently violent streak to play the role he needed. At least not without significant time and effort spent breaking her. And such operations were delicate; all too easy to go too far and render her useless. No, Daya would not serve him in this way.

He started to move on, then paused.

Daya would not serve him _directly_ in this way.

But she could still provide him the asset he sought. She could have a _child._

Sidious had considered taking such a step in the past--there had been a point in particular, a little over half a decade before he had at last become Chancellor, when the political expedience had almost-- _almost--_ outweighed the risks. But Plagueis had advised against it, and he had found another way to solve the problem of the moment, and let the notion fade away.

But not, apparently, die entirely.

It was still a risk, of course. Not for the same reasons it had been twenty years ago, necessarily, but still a risk. This would put a considerable amount of potential power in another person’s hands. And training an asset from infancy was, as he had learned with Maul, sometimes a tricky business. To say nothing of the delay in actually being able to _use_ said asset.

Still, there were significant advantages as well. While everyone would know the child was a spy--or, if they didn’t, they wouldn’t be worth spying on in the first place--most sentients had a peculiar blind spot where younglings were concerned. And it would be remarkably effective bait; for ambitious subordinates seeking to rise, and for bleeding-heart traitors seeking to ‘rescue’. It would serve as a deterrent, too, to Specter and any who followed him. A constant, living, breathing reminder of how easily he could be replaced.

The risk it presented--Sidious could mitigate that, he was certain, with the right sort of training. Assuming it had any intelligence at all; which, as his child, it certainly would. The delay, on the other hand, unfortunately could not be helped, but did he really _lose_ anything in the meantime? It wasn’t as though he couldn’t keep an eye out for extant candidates as well.

He smiled to himself. A child would not solve his current dilemma, but in the future, would be worth the wait. And if it was not, he was not so arrogant as to be unable to recognize when his experiment had failed and dispose of the results.

Sidious pulled up Daya’s file again, searching for anything in her records that might make her a poor candidate for the endeavor. If nothing else, simply the _attempt_ would certainly draw a reaction from his enemies.

And once they were reacting to him, moving down the paths _he_ laid out for them…

This trap might be decades in the making, but it would, he thought, be well worth the wait.


	25. Part 3, Chapter 7

It wasn’t the fact that Palpatine was trying to trap her that bothered Padme. Or, at least, not much. No, what bothered her was that it was so _obvious._ That wasn’t like him--like the man who had spent at least a decade and a half quietly accumulating power and setting the stage for the war and his ultimate takeover. A clumsy, obvious setup like sending her off in Anakin’s wake…

There was something buried here, something she wasn’t seeing. Probably, to her chagrin, because she’d been caught off guard, distracted by the very recent video of her officially-presumed-dead husband.

She didn’t know how the Emperor was reading _that,_ either, so she wasn’t sure how worried she needed to be. She knew her surprise must have shown, despite her best efforts. At least to him. Fortunately, she had long since resigned herself to the fact that Palpatine knew about their marriage. Clearly, she and Anakin hadn’t been anywhere _near_ as discreet as they’d thought. At least _that_ was a reaction she hadn’t had to scramble to guard against.

And then there was the content of the video itself. Anakin had looked...he had looked _good._ Healthy and strong and confident, moving with that sure, easy, almost predatory grace she so loved; comfortable in his own skin in a way that he so rarely was. And, all right, maybe (probably) a lot of that was just her extrapolating, filling in the gaps of a _very_ poor-quality surveillance recording with a combination of memory and wishful thinking, building him up into the man she saw in her dreams.

The good ones, at least. Not the nightmares, where he was pale and broken and too, too still. Like he’d been the last time she’d seen him--the last time she’d touched him--more than two years ago.

Maybe, if she was lucky, seeing that recording--seeing him whole and healthy and active again--would banish those images forever. But for now, all it had really done was open those wounds all over again. To have him so _close,_ just meters away, but only a hologram, not something solid she could hold--in fact, something she could barely _look_ at without risking giving herself away…

She _missed_ him, so much that it actually, physically _hurt._

His letters helped, a little--she was supposed to burn them; he always closed by telling her to burn them, but she hadn’t been able to do that. She had a small and growing cache behind a false wall at Varykino, along with her japor pendant and his Padawan braid. Little pieces of her missing love, things he had touched, things he had _created;_ scraps of flimsi covered in his spidery handwriting and endearingly idiosyncratic spelling.

She’d teased him about that once, in better times. He’d grinned a little sheepishly at her and admitted that Artoo always went over his reports or anything else official before he submitted them. Because unless you were used to it, it sometimes took awhile to parse anything he’d written. _She_ liked it, though. Partly for practical reasons--it added an extra layer of security to anything Ani wrote--and partly because it made his letters purely _him._ So much so that she could practically hear his voice, whispering in her ear, when she reread them.

So, they _helped,_ but even they were only pieces. And even _that_ small comfort was lightyears away from her now.

All in all, Padme was grateful that she had a driver to get her safely back to her apartment. If she’d had to drive herself there, after that audience, lost in those thoughts, she was almost positive she would have crashed.

By some miracle, she managed to mostly compose herself by the time she arrived. All four of her handmaidens were gathered in the sitting room, waiting; all four of them visibly relaxed when she came in through the balcony door--still shaken, but unharmed.

“Welcome back, milady.” Motee found her voice first, while Dorme rose to check on the counter-surveillance measures so they could speak freely.

“Thank you,” Padme said, finding a spot on the end of the couch and curling up there. “Is Luke still asleep?” She’d just settled him down for a nap when she’d been summoned, and waking him up unexpectedly was about as good an idea as it was with any toddler, but…

“Yes,” Elle said. “I just checked on him a couple minutes ago.”

“Right.” So, she wouldn’t go pick him up and hold him close for a while, as much as she desperately needed to. She would wait ‘til he woke up.

“What did the Emperor want?” Motee asked. “Did something happen?”

Dorme hadn’t signaled the all-clear yet, but any listeners would be expecting that question before too long. And they could at least get started on the logistics of her assignment. With that in mind, Padme said, “His Majesty is sending me to Vydrex IX. There was an...incident at the mining facility there earlier this week, and he would like me to oversee the relief efforts.”

The three still sitting with her exchanged a long look, then Motee nodded. “Will you send Luke to stay with your sister?”

“Yes.” She obviously wasn’t bringing him with her, but she _could_ have left him here, in their care--she trusted them absolutely, of course. But if he couldn’t be with _her,_ she thought it was probably a better idea to keep him somewhere remote and safe. Her handmaidens would still split up. Sabe and most likely Dorme would come with her, and the others would stay with Luke, take him home and protect him.

And then, finally, Dorme said, “Clear.”

Padme took a breath, and filled them in on all the rest of what had happened as quickly as she could--every detail of how the Emperor had staged the audience, Anakin’s involvement in the incident in question, _everything._

“So,” she said, after she finished. “What am I missing?”

“I’m not so sure you’re missing anything,” Elle said slowly, after a moment when none of them spoke.

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” she said, then paused to gather her thoughts. “What if this-- _exactly_ this--is what he wants? Send you on a twisted, inward path, second-guessing everything, get you so worked up and paranoid, looking for ulterior motives, that you stop paying attention to the obvious and make a mistake.”

“Huh.” She thought about it for a minute, toying with a strand of her hair that had come loose. “That...actually makes a lot of sense.” Palpatine was a master of subterfuge, of weaving plans within plans, but if he knew _she_ knew that was how he operated...well, keeping her off-balance going for something simple, contrary to all previous patterns and expectations, might be his best move.

“I agree, to a point,” Dorme said cautiously. “In that I’m not sure this is overly complex, but--what if the trap is just as simple as it looks, but you’re not the target; you’re the _bait?”_

Padme winced and curled a little tighter. _That’s what I’m afraid of._ Because maybe Anakin was smart enough to not go right back to a place he’d just blown up because she was there and so much closer than she had been in years. _Maybe._ But if there was even a whisper of a hint that she was in _danger_ there, somewhere he could actually get to and _do_ something about it…

“Maybe so,” Motee said, “but if that’s the case, there’s nothing we can do about it, other than hope that cooler heads prevail.”

“Or that the General simply renders him unconscious for the duration,” Sabe murmured. And, if it came right down to it, Padme was sure Obi-Wan would do exactly that. And he’d be right to do it.

“As I said,” Motee said dryly, “we can hope that cooler heads prevail. _My_ concern is that this isn’t a _trap,_ so much as a way to get you off Coruscant. Either to remove you temporarily while he does something you could stop, or to take you somewhere less secure.”

 _And remove me permanently,_ Padme finished for her.

“That may be the case,” Dorme said. “But it’s what we plan for every time you leave the planet.”

She nodded. “Of course. Thank you. So, we file that away as ‘possible-shading-probable,’ but continue as if we haven’t picked up on it anyway?”

“More or less,” Motee said. “We usually do. I mostly brought it up because of the quick turnaround, and the fact that _he’s_ arranging it this time. So it’s likelier than usual.”

“RIght. Anything else?”

“Yes,” Sabe said. “He may be trying to use the inevitable collateral damage to force a breach. Either a...personal one, or a larger one, between the political and military arms of the movement.”

Well, the first wouldn’t be a problem. The recording hadn’t shown much, but it was far from the worst she’d seen from Anakin. Nothing she’d seen in the audience chamber was remotely like that awful day in his stepfather’s garage. Besides, the simple fact was, no matter how justified, no matter how careful, collateral damage happened in war. A philosopher she had read once--she couldn’t recall his name--had said ‘All wars are crimes.’ She’d lived through enough conflict to know that to be true. It was simply a matter of degrees. And she trusted Anakin--at least in his official capacity--to do everything in his power to minimize it. There _were_ things that made him lose all sense of perspective, but there shouldn’t have been anything at that mine to do it. And if there had been, it would have _shown._

_I really, really hope that this isn’t a trap for him, like Dorme said._

As for the second…

It could happen. Someday. Extremists would rise, as they did in any movement. Barriss Offee was only the harshest example that came to mind. And some of them would, almost certainly, part ways with the larger movement. In both directions--because they were too militant, or not militant enough.

But she doubted that _this_ moment would do it.

“I don’t think it’ll happen. Not this time,” she finally said. “But that might be his goal. And it is something to watch for, in the future.”

Sabe nodded. “I think we’ve covered the likeliest ulterior motives,” she said. “And any further speculation risks running us into Elle’s trap.”

“I agree,” Motee said.

Padme nodded, and reluctantly uncurled. She had a task to complete, and preparations she had to make. Fortunately, it was midafternoon in Theed, which made her first task a little easier. She and Sola had discussed having Luke stay with Sola in situations like this before, at least in abstract, but a little notice would almost certainly be appreciated. “I have to call my sister. Please take care of the rest of the arrangements. I want to--” Saying ‘get this over with’ felt wrong. There _were_ people there who needed help. And it was, at least in part, because of people she worked with. People she loved.

But this was a _trap._ And there were too damn many reasons Palpatine might be sending her into it, and Bail hadn’t reported back about what the Jedi had said about the Dark Side assassin, and this might be putting Anakin at risk, and...

There was too much at stake, and yes, this _was_ important, but she needed to be _here,_ doing her _real_ work. Not chasing her husband’s ghost and trying to pretend it didn’t hurt, to be where he’d been, to have missed him by _days._

But her handmaidens understood. They always had. And she would do her duty. She always had.

“We’ll be ready to leave in a few hours,” Sabe said. “Do you have a preference for who goes with you and who goes with Luke?”

“No, I trust you.” And she’d have to get Luke ready to go, and hope he wasn’t _too_ upset that Mommy wasn’t coming to Aunt Sola’s with him. “Let me know if there’s anything you need from me.”

“We will,” she said.

Padme left them to it, heading into her study to call Sola and get this--

And get to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for handmaidens! Wanted to feature some besides Sabe. Plus, a little bit of backstory/headcanoning/etc.
> 
> Also! I will be doing a bonus fic of some kind for Star Wars Day (May 4). A bit more info on that on [my writing tumblr](https://shadowsong26fic.tumblr.com/post/159171709647/bonus-fic). Feel free to let me know if there's something specific you'd like to see, on that list or otherwise!
> 
> Thanks so much for sticking with me through this! <3
> 
> ~shadowsong


	26. Part 3, Chapter 8

As always, Anakin took the  _ Waterfall _ on a roundabout route away from Tatooine. And, as always, he felt that weird mixture of relief and disappointment. Relief because--because the planet was what it was, and his memories were what they were, and it was  _ still _ hard, being here.

But, at the same time, disappointment because, at least for now, he had to leave Leia behind. When she was a little older, ready for training, things would be different. But for now, she was safer staying with Owen and Beru, and he came to visit as often as he could. Which was not often enough by a long shot, but...

He shook his head, and focused on flying instead. Hopefully, by the time he and Rex got to the rendezvous with Obi-Wan, all of that would have faded. As much as it ever did.

Rex wasn’t in the cockpit with him; he’d set up a punching bag down in the hold to try and work out some of his own tension that way. It didn’t seem to be helping all that much, but at least it was keeping him busy. Sometimes, that was all anyone could do, when faced with what felt like impending doom.

Anakin had, of course, told him what Obi-Wan had said, that everything would be  _ fine, _ but it probably wouldn’t make much difference until the actual meeting. Just like it had taken Leia to really drive home to Rex that  _ Anakin _ had meant it, and he’d forgiven him in person from the start. Obi-Wan’s came secondhand, which made it that much harder.

But all of that would be straightened out soon enough, travel time aside. Along with whatever that meeting Obi-Wan had taken had been about. He’d sent two messages on the subject--first a request to stand by, then, a couple days later, a brief, “all clear, details when we meet.”

The two days in question had been  _ awful-- _ because, sure, Obi-Wan had gone dark for missions before (Anakin  _ never _ liked it, but grudgingly admitted that it  _ sometimes _ had to happen), but the fact that this had come up suddenly and was for a couple  _ days _ had just made it worse. Fortunately, he’d had Leia (and a few projects Owen had asked him to work on) to keep him busy, or he might have actually gone crazy, waiting on that second message. As it was, if he’d had any idea where the meeting was, he probably would’ve flat ignored his orders and gone to help right away.

Which, come to think of it, was probably at least part of why Obi-Wan hadn’t told him. That, and they could never be 100% sure how secure their conversations were, so they tried to avoid details like that except in person. There would have been a preset distress call, of course--probably on a timer that Obi-Wan had to restart at frequent intervals; that was how he usually did it--with all of that information. It wasn’t a perfect system, but it had worked so far.

_ We should work out something better, _ he thought,  _ before the delay in getting the message to me gets him killed. _

He’d bring it up, after they’d covered everything else. He had several hours in hyperspace to try and brainstorm some ideas. Maybe Rex would have some suggestions, too. They’d figure something out, anyway. Just like they always did.

 

* * *

 

The trip itself was quiet and uneventful, even if it was still sort of tense. Obi-Wan had beaten them to the rendezvous, which meant that his meeting had been closer than Tatooine. Which didn’t actually tell Anakin all that much about the content or who he was meeting with, but it was still something.

He’d brought the  _ Waterfall _ in for a landing under a moss-covered rock overhang at the edge of the swamp. It was a tight fit, and maybe a silver lining to meetings on this particular planet was that it took some actual  _ skill _ for him to approach it safely.

It was nice, when he got to  _ accomplish _ things. Concrete things. Especially after a string of days mostly spent  _ waiting. _

They were halfway down the boarding ramp when Rex paused, once again working himself into a tightly coiled spring of anxiety.

_ Is he going to bolt again? _

Anakin didn’t  _ think _ he would but, just in case, he paused as well, ready to intercept if he did.

“Maybe…” Rex said. “Sir, maybe I should stay here. With the ship. Not...not rush things.”

“It’ll be okay,” he said. “I told you. Everything’ll be okay. Trust me on that, all right?”

Rex took a deep breath, then steeled himself and nodded. “All right. I trust you, sir.”

“Good,” Anakin said, smiling briefly at him. “Come on, follow me. And be careful--the mud gets up to your hips a couple places on the path. Oh, and watch out for snakes.”

“...good to know, sir,” Rex said, then fell into step behind him.

On a normal planet, it would have taken about a half-hour for the two of them to get from the overhang to the small patch of relatively dry, solid ground where Obi-Wan was waiting for them. But because this planet was  _ not _ normal, it took half the afternoon.

Still, they made it, without getting stuck too badly or bitten by any of the snakes (just a few hundred insects). Obi-Wan, of course, was perfectly composed, having already settled himself in and started making tea.

“Oh, wonderful, you made it,” he said, standing up and brushing himself off lightly. He had clearly been there for a while; he was mostly dry.

“No thanks to all the kriffing mud,” Anakin muttered, offering Rex a hand up onto solid ground.

“Well, if it bothers you that much, we  _ could  _ have our next meeting on Jakku.”

He paused, contemplating  _ that _ horror for a second. Another karking desert planet, without Leia there to make it worth tolerating…

“Have I mentioned how much I  _ love _ mud, Master?”

Obi-Wan grinned at him, then looked past him to Rex, eyes growing quiet and serious again.

Behind Anakin, Rex tensed, and he fought the urge to do the same.

_ You said this was okay, I need this to be okay, please-- _

“It’s good to have you back on board, Captain,” Obi-Wan finally said softly.

“It’s...it’s good to be back, sir,” Rex said.

And...that was that.

_ Well, that’s not exactly fair, _ Anakin thought.  _ Rex was  _ mine, _ why did Obi-Wan have so much less trouble convincing him he was forgiven? _

And then he realized how  _ horrible  _ that thought was and it took a few seconds to drag his focus back to the present moment and out of his ever-present guilt.

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Sorry,” he said.  _ Don’t be jealous, don’t be jealous, it’s probably because you broke the ice, that’s all. _ He found a spot to sit down. “So, what was this meeting about?”

“Ah,” he said, and sat back down as well. “I met with Senator Organa.”

With--

An emergency meeting with--

_ No. No, no, no, no, no, nononononono this can’t be happening this can’t what no-- _

“Sir?” Rex put a hand on his arm, which at least jerked him out of  _ that _ particular moment of utter frozen terror.

Which had been  _ ridiculous, _ anyway. If something had happened to--if something had  _ happened, _ he would have known. He would have felt it. He would have  _ known. _

_ Would you? Would you really? _

He buried that deep, the only way he really knew how--and it was like he was out of his own head for a second, seeing him drop back into old patterns, patterns he was trying  _ so hard _ to break, he’d been trying so hard for  _ two kriffing years _ but--

“You didn’t  _ tell _ me,” he snapped. He’d gotten to his feet at some point; he couldn’t remember doing that; that was bad, right?

But it was easy, it was so easy, it was  _ too _ easy to lash out instead of taking a breath and thinking this through. Some part of him knew that, some part of him was begging the rest to stop for a minute, to  _ wait, _ but it was swallowed up by the roar of his heartbeat in his ears.

“No, I didn’t,” Obi-Wan said. He had stayed where he was, seated on the ground. “There wasn’t time, and I didn’t want you to panic until we knew there was reason.”

“Didn’t want me to--” Behind him, Rex was backing away,  _ stop this, stop this, you’re supposed to be better than this, why aren’t you  _ better _ than this. _ “What the--what happened to  _ no more secrets, _ Obi-Wan?”

Which wasn’t fair. It wasn’t like he was telling Obi-Wan everything--though things that were technically from before they’d made that promise  _ didn’t count; _ and the nightmares were just--Obi-Wan  _ needed _ him to be okay, he didn’t need to know about the guilt or the sleepless nights or the constant echo of  _ you broke the world, you were supposed to  _ save  _ everyone and just  _ look  _ where you are now-- _

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said. “Look at me.  _ Look _ at me.”

He was shaking now. The initial--it was over, the moment was over, the guilt had killed it  _ (for now, at least--never thought I’d be grateful for my karking  _ guilt), and he was shaking. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to--”

“I know,” he said. “And you’re right, we did promise. But there wasn’t  _ time, _ and…” He shook his head. “I had my reasons. And I  _ am  _ telling you now, at the first opportunity.”

“I know,” Anakin echoed. “I know, I know.”  _ Do better.  _ Be _ better. You have to  _ stop this.

“Sit down. Breathe.”

Wordless, he obeyed. It was easier to obey right now, to not think.

“That’s better, right?”

He nodded, and it  _ almost _ wasn’t a lie.

“You’re doing better, you know,” Obi-Wan said, after a moment where they just sat there, the tension slowly, slowly,  _ slowly _ bleeding out of the air.

He blinked, and looked up, uncertain.

“Not so long ago, you would have held on to that--you would have stormed off, gone and done something reckless, refused to speak to me for days,” he said. “But you  _ caught yourself. _ You calmed down on your own--or, mostly, at least. You’re doing  _ better.” _

He...he hadn’t thought about it that way. Huh.

“Oh,” he finally said.

Obi-Wan smiled a little at him. “All right?”

“Yeah,” he said. He took a breath, held it for five counts, and let it out slowly. His heartrate had  _ almost  _ returned to normal now. “Yeah, all right.”

But--

_ Rex, _ he thought, with another wild stab of guilt. “I’m sorry, Rex,” he said. “I didn’t--I’m sorry.” He wanted to say ‘it won’t happen again,’ but he’d thought that as recently as this morning, and obviously he was wrong. And he didn’t want to lie.

“It’s all right, sir,” he said, quietly. “Really, it is. Like General Kenobi said.” And he wasn’t--he wasn’t lying, or minimizing to make Anakin feel better. Or if he was, he was hiding it  _ really _ well. He  _ had _ been wary, but it had faded along with Anakin’s...with Anakin’s rage.

_ I don’t deserve you. Either of you. _

He closed his eyes, and tried to release that thought, or shut it down, or  _ something. _ Letting the guilt spiral out of control wouldn’t really help with anything, either.  _...I’m going to have to meditate later, aren’t I. For  _ hours.

But that was later. And, okay, Obi-Wan maybe had a point about why he hadn’t told him, and there  _ was _ a difference between Secrets and holding back operational details when there was no secure way to share them.

On the other hand, this had still been an emergency meeting with Bail Organa, and--

“Is...are…?” He stuttered a little. He couldn’t get the question out; couldn’t say their names; didn’t trust himself not to break down again if he did.

“They’re fine,” Obi-Wan assured him. “Padme and Luke are fine. Or they were when Senator Organa saw them last, anyway. That’s not why he wanted to meet.”

He slumped a little, boneless with relief.

Rex blinked, and looked like he was about to ask a question, then thought better of it.

_ I’ll tell you later, _ he promised silently.  _ When I’m not so--when I’ve had a chance to calm down all the way. _

“Okay,” he said. “Okay, okay.” Another deep breath. “What  _ did _ he want, then?”

“To show me this.” Obi-Wan’s face went grim, and he pulled out a datapad, calling up a grainy holovid of--

_ Oh. _

It was a ten-second clip, but it only took him half that long to figure out what he was looking at.

_ So, _ he thought.  _ So, this is...this is my replacement. _

He thought he might throw up.

Because  _ that could have been him. _ He hadn’t told anyone--not even Obi-Wan--how close it had been, but he knew. He  _ knew. _ And now there was someone else, some tall unknown being snapping necks in dark alleys, who was doing the Chancellor’s dirty work.

Who had taken that shot for him.

_ How can you look at it like that, how could you,  _ selfish-- _ this is a sentient being, a  _ person _ who was  _ ruined _ because of you. Because you couldn’t see what Palpatine was. Because even when you finally did, you couldn’t bring yourself to end him. Because you  _ failed _ at everything you were supposed to be. _

_ Because. _

_ Of. _

_ You. _

It took him--he wasn’t sure how long, after the vid finally ended, to wrestle the guilt back into its box where it belonged.

_ A  _ lot _ of meditation later. _

“So,” he finally said. It came out hoarse and painful, and he cleared his throat. “So, what do we do? Do we go after them?”

Obi-Wan studied him for a moment.

“Please?” Anakin said, and it had nothing to do with his original question. He just--couldn’t.

Rex had moved closer again, a silent wall of support at his back, and he didn’t have words for how grateful he was. To both of them, just for  _ being  _ there.

“All right,” Obi-Wan finally said. “But later, we should talk. When it’s not so raw.”

Anakin nodded. “Okay.”

“And I’m not so sure we should,” he said, after another moment. “Go after them directly. At least not yet.”

“Why not?” he asked.  _ Tactics. I can do tactics. _ “The longer we leave them running around…”

“I know,” he said, and sighed. “That is a problem.”

“And--sorry, sirs,” Rex said. “But wouldn’t there be an advantage to going after him? To picking the ground? I mean, he’s gonna come after you two someday. Probably.”

“You’re right,” Obi-Wan said. “But I’m not sure we can focus on them exclusively. We have other work that needs to be done. I have contacts I need to cultivate, there are some more targets for the two of you to deal with, a few things we should investigate…”

And there were only two of them--because Rex could  _ not _ take this being on; it would have to be him or Obi-Wan.

“So...what, then?” Anakin asked. “We just keep doing our work, pretend we don’t know they’re out there?”

“Not exactly,” Obi-Wan said. “We watch, and wait, and see what we can learn about this being. Obviously, if we see an opportunity, we take it. But we don’t go  _ looking _ for trouble.”

He sighed. On the one hand, they really didn’t have the time or resources to go looking. On the other--this new...candidate...couldn’t be very experienced. Not right now, at least. But the longer they waited to take them down, the harder it would be. “I guess that’s the best we can do, for now,” he finally said.

“And, when we get a chance,” Obi-Wan said, “I think we should go to Dagobah.”

_...yeah. I think that’s a good idea. _ Master Yoda might not tell them to do any different, but this was something all three surviving Jedi should probably weigh in on.  _ And maybe he can help me sort through some of--everything. He hasn’t really helped me much in the past, but things were all right on Polis Massa, and he doesn’t  _ need _ me to be okay like Obi-Wan does. It’s worth a shot. _

“I agree,” he said.

“Then we’ll plan on that,” Obi-Wan said. “But in the meantime…”

“Yeah,” he said. They had other work to do. Important work.  _ Distracting _ work. The kind that helped him get by. The kind he was  _ good _ at. It didn’t to much to ease his guilt, other than it kept him from thinking about it for a little while, but…it was useful, and he was  _ doing _ things.

And, just like it had been his entire adult life, it was always there. When everything else was falling apart around him, he could at least count on  _ that. _

It would have to be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Uh. So, this ended up a lot longer--and a lot darker--than I'd planned it to be. Uh. Anakin's head is not a happy place to be. I think I mentioned a while back, that he _is_ getting better/doing better, but it's not a straight line, and he's got a long way to go still. But he's trying. And he's better than he was. And he recognizes that he's got some problems, and is really trying to fix things, you know?
> 
> Anyway. Uh. Thank you all for reading and sticking with me this far <3
> 
> ~shadowsong


	27. Part 3, Chapter 9

Padme’s trip to Vydrex IX had, in the end, been somewhat anticlimactic. Despite her and her handmaidens’ fears, there was no dire news from Coruscant while she was away, and the closest she had come to personal, physical danger had been a genuine accident--a platform that was less stable than the mine foreman had thought gave way beneath her. She’d dislocated her shoulder when Dorme caught her, but that was it.

And, up until then, apart from the raw fact that Anakin had been involved (he hadn’t shown up, which was--probably for the best, as much as she needed to see him), it had been a fairly standard disaster relief effort. She had tried to find a balance between being  _ too _ interested in the dissidents behind the explosion, and not interested  _ enough. _ As far as she could tell, she’d done all right--she hadn’t raised any local eyebrows, at least--but if she hadn’t…

There was nothing she could do about it now. Palpatine might well sit on his analysis of her behavior for  _ years. _ Focusing on how well she had or hadn’t done until then would just make her paranoid. And, like Elle had said, that would make her more likely to make a mistake.

In any case, at least in terms of quantifiable problems, the worst of it had been when the head of the local mining concern tried to enlist her support in a dispute he was having with the system’s civilian governor, who, naturally, was  _ also _ engaged in an elaborate pissing contest with the local military commander. Padme was, of course, smart enough not to actually get involved, but juggling the three men (and their egos) so they didn’t keep her from doing  _ her _ job had been  _ incredibly _ annoying. And it had made just about everything take twice as long as it should have, and probably contributed to the miscommunication about the platform and her accident.

Not that she was particularly upset about that. It wasn’t like a dislocated shoulder  _ hurt, _ or meant she couldn’t pick up her son properly when she saw him again, or anything.

But, at long last, after a little over two weeks, things had progressed reasonably and gained some momentum of their own. The situation was as stable as she could hope to make it. She’d stayed an extra couple days, just to be sure, then politely--and with great relief--started back to Coruscant.

And then, when she was about halfway there, she’d received a message from home. Not any kind of disaster  _ there, _ thank every known deity in the universe, but Queen Velida, elected to succeed Apailana four months before, was requesting her advice and assistance with some internal issues.

As much as she worried about the Queen using her fame and stature as a shortcut around a complex problem, Padme could hardly refuse the request.

_ At least this will probably taper off after another couple months, _ she’d thought, as Sabe relayed the new course instructions to the pilot.  _ Hopefully, anyway. I made sure I stayed term-limited for a reason. _

But she was more or less resigned to the idea--the only Queen who  _ hadn’t _ sought her advice like this, at least in the early days, had been her immediate successor, Idayane, who had seemed to want to prove she could live up to expectations just fine on her own. Padme had always gotten the impression that Idayane had resented her a little bit, or at least having to follow immediately after her. And she couldn’t really blame her--while she didn’t think she was any more competent or talented than  _ any _ of the young women who had followed her in the Palace, the circumstances of her reign had made her a hard act to follow. And she knew it. And Idayane, in particular, had  _ felt _ it. Their relationship had improved significantly since Idayane had left the palace, but Padme doubted they’d ever be friends, the way she was with the others--Neeyutnee and Jamillia in particular.

So, she had sent in her final reports on Vydrex IX--the official one, to Palpatine, and a second, very carefully-worded one to Bail and Mon--and headed home. Which, to be fair, wasn’t  _ entirely _ a bad thing. She got to see her parents, and Sola and the girls, and spend a little more uninterrupted time with Luke than was sometimes possible in the Capital. They’d even managed to slip off to Varykino for a couple of days.

She’d spent some time at Leia’s false grave, too--without Luke; she had no idea whether or not he’d be able to tell it was empty, and didn’t want to risk it either way. When he was old enough, she would tell him everything, of course. But for now, it would only upset him, or risk exposing him, or both.

But, eventually, both her business on-planet and her brief retreat had concluded. And now, over a  _ month _ after she’d left, she was finally back on Coruscant, with her son and her handmaidens, settling back into her usual routine.

Well, that  _ had _ been the plan.

Until, halfway up to the apartment, the lift stopped, and quietly slid open.

Luke pressed tight against her side, clinging to her leg; if he got any closer, he’d practically be inside her. She heard him whimper faintly, and she couldn’t blame her.

Because, standing there quietly, perfectly framed in the doorway, was the shadow from Bail’s security tape.

The assassin.

Padme fought down the urge to scream, to pick up her son--shoulder or no shoulder--and run. It wouldn’t do any good anyway; the assassin was blocking the only exit.

She shut down that part of her brain as hard as she could, resting a hand on Luke’s head, and tried to take in as much detail as she could.

He was tall; about Ani’s height, give or take a few centimeters. He wasn’t human--there was a little too much height to his hood. Cerean, maybe; or a horned species like a Gotal or a Devaronian. She couldn’t see his face, and he wore gloves, so she couldn’t narrow down his species that way. He shifted ever so slightly; the outer layer of his robes swirled around him, revealing a pair of lightsabers clipped to his belt.

A not-so-subtle threat.

Her handmaidens went still, and pressed a little closer around her.

She steeled herself, and looked right at him.  _ I stared down Count Dooku. Whoever you are,  _ you _ are not Dooku. _

(And it wasn’t the same, because her  _ son _ was here, but it was enough for her to stay strong, to protect him, to get the all off this damn lift without anyone dying.)

“Good afternoon,” she said, coolly.

“Senator Amidala,” he replied. His voice was--not what she expected. Lighter, softer-- _ young. _ “I am Darth Specter.”

Which meant--

_ Don’t think about it now. _

“Is there a reason you’ve stopped us?” she asked, keeping any reaction to the name--or the  _ title _ \--off her face.

“You were investigating the bombing on Vydrex IX, correct?” he asked. He leaned forward a little, and she caught another flash of his lightsabers.

_ I could reach out and take them. He’s so close, and if I disarm him-- _

_ Don’t be an idiot, _ she cut herself off, harshly.  _ Don’t pick a fight with him. Not now. Luke is  _ right here. _ If you try to disarm him, it’ll get messy, and he’s faster than you are, and there’s no cover in a damn lift. Besides, he can kill you just as dead with his bare hands. Probably. _

“I wasn’t investigating,” she corrected him. “I was overseeing relief efforts for the affected population.”

“RIght,” he said. “But you were there. You must have asked  _ some _ questions.”

_ This is a trap, _ she realized It was almost a relief. He was trying to  _ bait _ her, into saying more than she should. Palpatine must have sent him, to catch her off guard.  _ This, _ she could handle.

“A few,” she said, putting a hint of caution into her voice.

“Of course, you were curious,” he said.

“That’s not the word I would’ve used.”

“Tell me,” he said, taking a half step closer. “Did any of your  _ questions _ tell you what kind of ship he left in? Senator,” he added, almost as an afterthought.

And  _ that _ set of a different kind of alarm bell in her head. His voice had gotten tense, eager--almost  _ hungry. _

_ He’s after Anakin, _ she realized.  _ Whether or not this is a test for me, for  _ him, _ it’s--well,  _ good luck, _ Specter, I am  _ not _ giving you  _ my _ husband. _

“Like I said,” she said, making her voice as icy as possible, “I wasn’t  _ investigating. _ No one even told me the bomber was male.” Which was technically true--Palpatine hadn’t  _ told _ her, just shown her that kriffing video.

Besides, she didn’t know how much  _ Specter _ knew. Palpatine didn’t seem the type to keep his minions any more in the loop than he had to. Two could play the testing game.

And, like she’d half-expected--like she’d hoped--Specter let out a sort of growl of frustration, and backed off. “Fine,” he said. “Fine. I’ll see you again. Senator.”

He turned, black cloak swirling around him, and left them there. The lift doors slid shut, and her handmaidens all relaxed.

And Luke burst into tears.

“Shh, shh, sweet boy, it’s okay,” Padme said, kneeling and holding him as close as she could with only one arm. “It’s okay, it’s okay, he’s gone now.” The lift lurched into motion around them, and she kept whispering soothing things, while her mind whirled, processing everything she knew.

Which was a  _ lot _ more than she’d thought she ever would.

_ He’s young--and not someone who’s dealt with Senators or other people with any kind of rank before. He’s also kept at arm’s length, or at least doesn’t know that I already knew who was behind the attack on the mine. Which means he probably doesn’t know Anakin and I are married, either. And he didn’t-- _

She paused for a beat, looking down at her son as the elevator reached her floor.

_ He didn’t even  _ look _ at Luke. Not  _ once.

She hardly dared to believe it, but--Specter saw  _ nothing _ in him, other than a frightened toddler.

All of that added up to--young, inexperienced, probably easy to goad into a trap.

If only that trap didn’t probably mean--

_ Not your call to make, _ she reminded herself.  _ Okay. First thing, I have to let Bail and Mon know what I found out. _ From there, Bail would pass the intel on to the people responsible for using it, and the three of them would watch and see how Specter affected the political situation, and if they could manipulate that at all.

Then she was going to just find a quiet place and cling to her son and not deal with any politics or overblown egos or Sith Lords for an hour or two.

“Lulu, sweetheart,” she said, trying to disentangle him from her legs. “Mommy has to go make a quick call, okay? I’ll be right back, I promise.”

“Nooooooo,” he said.

“I  _ promise,” _ she said again. “Aunt Sabe will keep you safe until then. And the bad man isn’t coming back.”  _ Not any time soon, at least. I think. I hope. _

Sabe swooped in to the rescue, picking Luke up, which started him crying again. “Try Senator Mothma first,” she said quietly. “It’s midday in Aldera City.”

Which meant Bail would probably be speaking with Breha and Winter. Padme had no intention of interrupting his time with his family unless she had no other choice.

She nodded. “Sorry,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

“Noooooooo,” Luke said, reaching for her again.

“Shh, little one,” Sabe tried. “Mommy will be  _ right back.” _

Before she could lose her resolve, Padme went into her study and closed the door behind her. She called Senator Mothma’s office, only to be told she had left for a few hours, but fortunately, her staff had standing instructions to at least attempt to transfer any calls from Bail or Padme immediately. She waited a few minutes, with the silence and the ticking chrono making her tense all over again. She anxiously fidgeted with her earrings, then drummed her fingers on her desk, then just started pacing.

_ Calm down. Calm  _ down. _ The call might be monitored, we never know--you have to look  _ normal. _ So you don’t put her in danger. Focus on the positives--we know a lot more about Specter than we used to. And knowledge is power. Maybe it’s enough to  _ do _ something about him. _

She took a deep breath, gripped the edge of her desk, and let it out slowly while she was transferred to Mon’s private line at home.

Finally, she answered; and having something to focus on helped Padme get a little more self-control.

She sank down into her desk chair, and smiled, hoping it didn’t seem too forced. “Hello, Mon.”

“Hello, Padme,” she replied, with a warm, if slightly strained, smile. “Welcome back.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time…”

“No, not at all. What do you need?”

_ To tell you and Bail about Specter. And hope that Bail’s heard back from Obi-Wan by now. _

She took a breath.  _ Steady. _ “I know it’s short notice,” she said, apologetically, “but I was just checking and the fiscal deadline for the park fund we were discussing before I left is at the end of the week.”

A flicker of understanding passed through Mon’s eyes. While Padme and Bail had been friends for years, and so had plenty of reasons to visit one another, her relationship with Mon had been friendly, but  much more professional before this all started. So they had a series of charity projects they worked on together now, as reasonable excuses to meet frequently. The one she’d picked--which  _ did _ have a filing deadline coming up; she wouldn’t risk lying about that--involved Bail as well, making things much simpler.

“Damn. Of course it is.” She sighed.

“I know I had a few more details I wanted to go over,” Padme said. “Do you have an hour or so later this evening where we could meet?” Which was a hint that, while sooner would obviously be better, they didn’t need to drop everything and plunge into the new problem.

_ I hope I’m right about that. _

“Uh, just a moment.” Mon turned away from her comm, partially disappearing from view for about thirty seconds, then came back. “I have a dinner with Senator Organa and a few others. He and I can stop by your apartment after, if you’d like? I know you just got in, and you’re probably tired…”

“That sounds perfect,” she said. “I’ll be up, I can sleep a little this afternoon. What time should I expect the two of you?”

“It’ll be fairly late,” she said. “Ten or eleven.”

“All right,” she said, making a note of it. “I’ll have everything together when you arrive.”

“Wonderful. See you tonight, then.”

“See you tonight.” She pushed the button on her desk to sign off, and slumped a little, leaning forward on her good hand.

_ Progress. The only progress I can make right now. But the others will know what I know in a few hours, and Bail will get it to the Jedi, and…it’ll be okay. They’ll take care of him. Obi-Wan and Ani--they’ll handle this. I trust them. It’ll all be okay. _

If only she could forget that  _ hunger. _

“Mommy?” Luke’s voice from the door pulled her out of her thoughts.

He must have escaped Sabe. Or Sabe had figured out she was off the phone and sent him over.

She took a deep breath, made herself smile, and went to let him in.

He was standing there, scuffing his foot in the carpet. As soon as the door was out of his way, he beelined for her legs again, clinging tight. “Don’ like the lift man,” he mumbled.

“I know, sweet boy,” she said. She wanted to pick him up but--damn  _ shoulder. _ So, instead, she sat down on the floor and pulled him into her lap. “Mommy’s not going to let him hurt you, okay, Lulu? Never ever.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, and nestled closer.

She stroked his hair lightly. “You were very brave. I know he’s very scary.”

Luke shrugged one shoulder and stuck his thumb in his mouth.

“Want me to read you a story?” She had one of his favorites on her desk. If he would let her up, she could grab it easily enough.

He shook his head. Clearly, he didn’t want either of them to move right now. And, frankly, she was perfectly fine with that. As long as he was with her--as long as she was holding him like this--she knew her son was safe.

So she held him, just like that, stroking his hair and humming a little under her breath, until he finally fell asleep.

_ He didn’t even look at Luke, _ she reminded herself.  _ Specter didn’t even  _ look _ at him. _

It didn’t mean all that much, maybe, but it was better than nothing. She’d take what she could get, for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo let’s talk about the timeline of the Naboo monarchy for a second.
> 
> I know timelining anything in Star Wars is not the easiest of tasks (even without going into the messes that are the internal timelines of ROTS and ESB), but the Queens of Naboo are a pretty special case of weird. I know there’s a source somewhere (I don’t know what level of canon it was, even in Legends), that said four year terms/Padme served eight years as Queen and then went into the Senate. Jamillia succeeded her, ruled until about two years into the Clone Wars, did not get re-elected, and then we have Apailana at Padme’s canon funeral. Fine and dandy, yay, this makes total sense.
> 
> Except…then came the TV show. And Neeyutnee. And the timeline crashed and burned.
> 
> Wookiepedia, which I tend to use as a reference a lot, cites her reign as being 21 – 20 BBY. Which…given the timing of her first and last appearances (the whole thing with the plague, and then the Rako Hardeen arc) doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to me? I mean, fitting everything that happens in the TV series into three years (or, given that there’s a bit of a break on either end, closer to two and a half, probably) is a pain in the butt anyway, but this just makes it worse. I mean, it basically implies she resigned/was assassinated (but why didn’t we hear about that? Was there going to be a later Clone Wars arc about Neeyutnee’s death? There were supposed to be two more seasons, I think…) or impeached or something, and then Apailana succeeded her (what is the succession on Naboo, anyway? What is the equivalent of the VP?).
> 
> …anyway, roundabout way of saying: four-year terms, given the timeline as it now stands, insofar as any SW timeline can be accurately parsed, don’t make much sense. Also, I wanted to do a little—world/character building thing here, with Padme and her relationship with/how she is perceived by her successors. So, for the purposes of this fic, as there's no strict canon (anymore, that I'm aware of) on the length of the Naboo Monarch's terms, I’ve gone with two-year terms instead of four.
> 
> I’ll try not to do this sort of thing (completely ignore accepted Legends holdovers/interpolations) too often, I promise. <3 Thanks so much for putting up with me, and hope you’re enjoying yourselves! Next week should bring a close to _Captain,_ and then we'll start Part 4: Commander, which will bring in a couple people I'm super-excited for :)
> 
> See you guys next week!
> 
> ~shadowsong


	28. Part 3, Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note--this chapter takes place a couple months after the last one.

“Are you  _ sure _ you want me to leave you here, Kenobi?” Hondo asked, staring down at the planet’s icy landscape from the boarding ramp of his ship.

“Yes, I’m sure,” he said. Not that he particularly blamed Hondo for the reaction--Ordo Plutonia was just as uninviting now as it had been on his first visit years ago, early in the war. But that meant that the Imperial presence was minimal, and, since he and Anakin had managed to maintain decent relations with the Talz, despite everything, it was as good a place as any to use as a waystation. “I’m meeting someone here.”

“Hmm...anyone I know?” he asked, stroking his ever-present pet thoughtfully.

He raised an eyebrow. “Come, now. You know better.”

“Well, you can’t blame me for trying,” Hondo said, waving a hand and grinning at him.

_ No, not really, _ he admitted, at least internally. He and the pirate had cobbled together a perfectly functional working relationship in the two years since Hondo had first very courteously  _ not _ seen him in his rival’s safehouse. It was mostly built on trading information back and forth--Hondo provided Obi-Wan with intelligence about trends in the black market and, in exchange, Obi-Wan helpfully pointed him towards Imperial military stockpiles that wouldn’t be too risky to raid, and various locations where he could be guaranteed buyers for just about anything he acquired along the way. Some of those were resistance cells that Obi-Wan couldn’t arm or otherwise supply in any other way. Some of them were simply out-of-the-way places, off the major trading routes, with the hope that Hondo’s people could fill that niche before the Hutts or Black Sun or the like decided to expand.

Their arrangement benefited them both. Obi-Wan had more pieces of the general puzzle of galactic trade that  _ might _ help him anticipate some of Palpatine’s future maneuvers, or figure out what that massive infrastructure project he  _ knew _ was being built somewhere really was. Hondo, in exchange, had a fairly steady moderate-risk, moderate-reward income that could hold his crew together when his more typical piracy efforts were less than fruitful. His prices, where Obi-Wan sent him, were always... _ tolerable, _ if not quite reasonable. Presumably, Hondo knew that if he pushed that line too far, he’d stop receiving tips at all.

Still, as stable as their working relationship was, Obi-Wan knew better than to trust Hondo too far. There were certain cells, no matter how much they’d benefit from the system, Obi-Wan would never share; certain people and places he kept strictly off-limits to the pirate. And Anakin was one of them, because, while Obi-Wan was  _ nearly _ certain that Hondo wouldn’t hand  _ him _ over to the Empire without a fairly literal blaster pointed at his head, he wasn’t certain how much of that was a practical assessment of the Empire’s “gratitude” and how much was the personal fondness Hondo seemed to have for him. If it was too much of the latter, he couldn’t trust that protection would extend to Anakin.

He wouldn’t have brought Hondo this close, even, but the ship he had until recently been using had had an unfortunate accident with a sentry tower on his last mission, and he hadn’t had a chance to acquire another one yet. And, as he and Anakin finally both had a few days to slip off to Dagobah together--three months after they’d first learned that the Emperor had taken a new apprentice, and six weeks after Padme had discovered his name--time was rather a factor.

So, when Hondo had turned up, Obi-Wan had naturally bargained with him for a ride.

“Well, what’s it to me?” Hondo said. “You’re always doing crazy things in strange places, Kenobi. The day you make sense is the day I worry, yes?” He sighed theatrically and shook his head. “Well! I will leave you to your wasteland, my friend. And hope to see you soon?”

“Always,” Obi-Wan said, and bowed. “Thank you for the ride. Until next time.” He leapt off the ramp without waiting for a response, landing knee-deep in the snow, and then darted off to get out of range of the backdraft of the saucer’s engines as Hondo took off.

He watched until the ship was completely out of his range of vision, then closed his eyes to get his bearings and started off east towards the rendezvous point.

Anakin and the  _ Waterfall _ were waiting precisely where Obi-Wan had expected them to be, about four kilometers from the armistice point Senator Chuchi had established. The boarding ramp was down, and Anakin was sitting cross-legged on it, fiddling with what looked like the power module for a laser cannon and swearing softly. Judging by the content of his sullen muttering, the balance between retaining sufficient manual dexterity for delicate work and not losing his remaining hand to frostbite was  _ not _ currently in his favor.

“I do hope that’s not something we’ll need,” he said, when Anakin failed to greet him.

He shook his head. “Replacement,” he said. “Guns work okay, but I’m making them better.” He finished his immediate task, then carefully replaced the panel over the wiring so it wouldn’t get damaged or electrocute anyone.

“Fair enough,” Obi-Wan said, smiling a little to himself.  _ Some things never change. _

His fond amusement quickly gave way to a brief flash of concern; Anakin stood with a little more care than usual, briefly putting a hand on his side.

“Everything all right?”

“I’m fine,” Anakin said, then, catching the look on Obi-Wan’s face, somewhat grudgingly admitted, “I cracked a couple ribs on my last mission. Beru taped them up to me.”

“I see,” he said. Anakin probably wasn’t understating his situation  _ too _ much--their last conversation had been very brief, checking in and advising that their respective latest missions had gone well and confirming the coordinates on Ordo Plutonia--but he hadn’t seemed to be in too much pain. Even he could only hide so much.

_ I can confirm with Rex once we get underway, _ he decided. Better to be sure--Anakin had somehow managed to only get  _ less _ careful of his own safety since the Clone War had ended and this new one had begun.

“Rex isn’t here,” Anakin said--probably not actually responding to Obi-Wan’s thoughts; even as close as their bond was, it still took actual, noticeable  _ effort _ to project or read true words like that. “He decided to stay at the farm and sit this meeting out.”

Which was not particularly surprising, now that he thought about it. Obi-Wan and Anakin had sent Master Yoda a message regarding Rex, of course (and he had agreed with them on how to handle the situation), but that likely didn’t make an actual encounter any less daunting. Besides which, the topic of the meeting was pretty exclusively Jedi business. The two of them could brief Rex afterwards if anything in their plans for Darth Specter had changed.

It was also something of a relief. Not because of any potential tension, but because Rex had, since rejoining them, become almost as fiercely protective of Anakin as Anakin was of everyone else. If Rex had allowed Anakin to go off alone, even on a trip as unlikely to see danger as consulting Master Yoda on Dagobah, his injuries  _ had _ to be relatively minor.

“All right,” he said, and followed Anakin into his ship, hitting the button to seal the ramp behind them. “Everyone there is doing well?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Leia misses you, she kept asking when she’ll get to see you again.”

“I’ll go back with you when you pick up Rex,” he said. It  _ had _ been entirely too long since he’d seen her.

“Sounds good,” Anakin said. “All right, strap in.”

“With you driving?” Obi-Wan said, already settled into the copilot’s seat.  _ “Always.” _

 

* * *

It took a little over a day for them to reach Dagobah, with all the backtracking and rerouting Anakin now did as a matter of course to avoid potential pursuit. Anakin spent most of the time he wasn’t actively engaged in piloting continuing to work on his power module. Obi-Wan worked on updating their target and allies map, ran a few saber drills (and talked Anakin out of sparring with no little difficulty--but cracked ribs were still cracked ribs, and healed enough to travel or handle an emergency was not license to push without  _ necessity), _ and played a few rounds of dejarik with Artoo.

They talked, too, of course; about general strategy for the coming months, about when they should start training Leia in earnest, beyond the basic control exercises disguised as creche games. And a little bit about Specter, too. Anakin’s crushing waves of guilt seemed to be somewhat lesser as time went on, at least. There certainly hadn’t been a repetition of that first incident in the swamp all those weeks ago. But he still clearly found it difficult to put his thoughts into words. They both did.

Still, it seemed to help. Or, at least for Obi-Wan, it got a little easier each time. And it was certainly  _ immense _ progress from how they would have handled this--how they  _ had _ handled similar discussions--three years ago.

But finally, they dropped out of hyperspace for the last time. Anakin set about scanning for a solid place to set down, while Obi-Wan used one of his back doors into the HoloNet to see if there were any new atrocities from Specter, or any other information they should discuss with Master Yoda while they were here.

He flipped through a series of press releases from Coruscant--all propaganda and only rarely true, of course, but knowing what Palpatine was  _ saying _ was almost as useful, in its own way, as knowing what he was  _ doing. _

And then one of them caught his eye.

He paused, an scrolled back up to reread it more carefully.

It said the exact same thing the second time.

The Emperor, it seemed, was expecting a child.

_ That...that  _ can’t _ be right. _

A third read-through changed nothing.  _ A child. _ The mere thought was--

“Master?”

He looked up to see Anakin watch him, worry writ plain on his face. They had landed, while he’d been staring at his ‘pad, and he hadn’t even noticed.

“What’s wrong?” Anakin asked.

Obi-Wan hesitated half a second, then said, “Something we should discuss as a group.”  _ Because if I brought it up here, with just the two of us, we’d never get off this ship to meet with Master Yoda.  _ He knew there was no possible way Anakin would take the revelation well, and the longer it took him to storm off and do something stupid to try and fix it, the better chance Obi-Wan had of talking him down.

Anakin stared at him for a long moment. “That bad,” he said, quietly.

“Yes.”

He paused a second. “It’s not--you’d tell me if…”

“It’s nothing to do with Luke or Padme,” he assured him.  _ Not...directly, anyway.  _ “We should go.”

“Right.” Anakin shook his head, and stood up. “Artoo, you coming, or you want to stay with the ship?”

The droid beeped something disparaging--Obi-Wan still didn’t really understand binary, but he thought he caught the words ‘swamp’ and ‘crazy’ in there somewhere.

“So, staying with the ship, then,” Anakin replied, without missing a beat. “Comm if you change your mind.”

With that, the two Jedi exited the ship, and found Master Yoda waiting for them at the base of the ramp. Beside him, he felt Anakin relax just a hair, which was another thing that was different--and  _ vastly _ improved--from the past. He still didn’t know exactly what the two of them had said to one another, back on Polis Massa, or at any time since, but it had had a strong, positive impact on his friend.

“Good to see you, it is,” Yoda said, bowing for them, which they returned as one. “This way, my home is. Come, and discuss this Darth Specter we will.”

“There’s not all that much to say,” Obi-Wan said, falling into step behind him. “Neither of us has actually run across him yet. We thought it best to watch and wait--there’s so much else for us to do.”

“And few enough, we are,” Yoda said. He was pensive, closed-off. “Disagree with your assessment, I do not. But delay too long, we should not, either. To allow Sith evil to grow unchecked is unwise.”

They came through another stand of trees to a small, cozy-looking hut at the base of one of the trees. Yoda pushed open the door and led them inside, gesturing them to a pair of chairs by the fire.

Anakin managed not to hit his head on the ceiling, but it was a very near miss. “That’s what I was thinking, Master,” he said. “I just--I’m not sure when we make the call to bait him ourselves.”

The datapad with its alarming headline weighed heavy in Obi-Wan’s hands. Especially with  _ that _ on the horizon…he couldn’t predict how it might affect Specter and his situation, let alone any attempts of theirs to bait the new Sith Lord into attacking them before he was ready.

“A thought, you have, Obi-Wan?” Master Yoda prompted.

“Not directly related,” he admitted. “But there’s an additional complication.” He pulled out the ‘pad and called up the relevant file. He passed it first to Yoda, who skimmed it before handing it to Anakin and sitting back, mind once again opaque.

Anakin’s, as Obi-Wan predicted, was  _ not. _ It was whirling, horrified, and--with that same sick undertone of guilt he felt whenever they spoke about Specter.

“We can’t--we can’t let him do this,” Anakin said after a minute. “We  _ can’t.  _ He’ll--this is a  _ child, _ we can’t leave a  _ child _ with him.” His thoughts whirled again, now focused on Leia. There weren’t any words that Obi-Wan could detect, he wasn’t projecting enough for that, but he couldn’t hide his feelings where his daughter was concerned, couldn’t quite mask the horrifying image of a child just like her in--a nightmare.

Obi-Wan’s were a little different, on his own near-catastrophic failure.  _ We can’t leave a child with him, not again. _ He should never have allowed Palpatine to cultivate any sort of relationship with Anakin. He knew that now. But he’d been--grieving, and unsettled, and overwhelmed, and it…

What Palpatine had nearly done wasn’t his fault. No more than what he actually  _ had _ done. But at the same time, his action (or inaction) had caused a great deal of pain. And now there was another child, and all he could think was,  _ how much will  _ this _ child be hurt, if we allow this? _ Especially since  _ this _ child would be in the Emperor’s hands from a much younger age, and with fewer lifelines to help them cope. And what lifelines they did have would probably have limited access, so there wasn’t--there might not be much they could do.

“So, to Coruscant you would go, hmm?” Yoda said. The disapproval was clear in his voice. “Break into the Emperor’s palace, steal his child?”

“Yes,” Anakin said, immediately.

“How?”

A short pause. He took a breath. “I don’t know yet,” Anakin admitted. His voice was taut and shaking a little. “I don’t--but there’s a few months to plan that. Right? We can find a way. We can figure this out.” He looked at Obi-Wan, pleadingly.

“It’s risky,” he said, cautiously. Because it was. It was bordering on  _ insane _ to contemplate. But he was already starting to put together the basics of a plan. For the first time, he was almost grateful Palpatine had built his palace on the ruins of the Temple. It meant Obi-Wan knew the lay of the land, so to speak. At least to a point.

“And if another, he has?” Yoda asked. “What then?”

And Obi-Wan saw where the whole thing unravelled.

_ If he wants this--if Palpatine truly  _ wants  _ this--he won’t stop until he  _ has _ it. _

“I’ll go back for that one, too,” Anakin said, defiantly, just shy of snapping.

“And succeed you might, a second time,” Yoda said. “But if a third he has? Or another? Fail you would, eventually, to be killed--or worse.”

“That doesn’t mean we can  _ leave _ her there!”

“Nothing, did I see, that said a girl the child was,” he said, much sharper this time. “Overinvolved in this, you risk becoming.”

Anakin’s hands clenched a little, and Obi-Wan caught his left wrist, to try and steady him before he broke down again. “Our friends on Coruscant will--do what they can,” he said. And he knew it was a hollow thing, such a hollow thing. And the three of them hadn’t even touched on what was likely to happen to the child’s poor  _ mother, _ whoever she was.

Anakin jerked away, and said nothing. He was trying to lock down his shields, with minimal success. He was still seething inside, because--some part of him knew Yoda was right. And it was not an easy thing to admit.

“Too few of us, there are,” Yoda said, his voice softening again. “And too much other work there is to do. For one child, sacrifice all, we cannot. Save everyone, we cannot.”

“But we could save this one,” Anakin said. “If you’d just let me  _ try, _ I could...I could  _ save _ this one. I could get this one right.”

The words hung in the air between them for a minute.

“I’m sorry, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said quietly. “I don’t...disagree with you. But…”  _ Master Yoda’s right. Sooner or later, the odds will catch up with us. _

“On Darth Specter, on the larger war, we must focus,” Yoda said. “To the Senators, this child we must leave.”

After a long, tense moment, Anakin finally nodded. “Fine. I guess. You’re right. We don’t have--I get it,” he said, with no little bitterness. “But whatever happens to this kid--whatever he does to her, at least a part of it’s on us. Because we  _ chose _ not to save her.”

Which stung, more than a little. Obi-Wan knew Anakin would vehemently deny it if he tried to make a similar claim for their own, more direct history with Palpatine, but…well, it was what it was.

Although, it wasn’t  _ entirely _ fair of Anakin to say either way. As Yoda had stressed when this all began, they were not to blame for what Darth Sidious chose to do.

_ No, just for setting up the situations that make it easy for him to succeed. _

He buried those thoughts as deep as he could. There were other, more immediate issues to be addressed there, quickly, before this discussion got derailed any further. Behind Anakin’s head, he shot Yoda a half-pleading look-- _ I will talk with him later, about projecting his own experiences onto this child and getting overinvested. Please don’t make the argument worse right now. I will get him through this later. Please. _

Yoda nodded once, and, fortunately, let it slide. “More blame, you attach to us, than we have earned,” he said instead.

“I don’t--” Anakin took a deep breath, then made a face and rested a hand on his side again. “Fine. That’s--fine.” He still didn’t believe it; Obi-Wan saw it clear as day before his shields slammed back into place.

Yoda stared at them both for a long moment, then sighed, his ears drooping. “Meditate, I think we should. Calm ourselves, then return to our other discussion.”

“I agree,” Obi-Wan said, touching Anakin’s arm lightly. This time, at least, he didn’t pull away.  _ We’re not going to be very productive, on Specter or any other issue, the way things stand right now. _

Anakin nodded. “I’m going to go back to the  _ Waterfall, _ then,” he said. “I need--space, I think. I’ll come back in a couple hours.” He stood up as best he could, with the low ceiling. Obi-Wan felt a flicker of physical pain, followed by a faint jolt of annoyance--twisting to fit under the ceiling was probably doing his ribs no favors.

“Why don’t you call us when you’re ready, instead?” Obi-Wan said. “We’ll join you.”

“Sure,” he said, some of the relief bleeding into his voice. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

“May the Force be with you,” Yoda said.

“And with you, Masters,” Anakin said, bowing as best he could and then slipping out, leaving them to their own private contemplations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, with this behemoth of a chapter, Part 3 ends. Sorry for the late update this week, hopefully it was worth it <3
> 
> Next week starts _Part 4: Commander,_ which picks up after about a three-year timejump in story. Sadly, I do not have a teaser sentence prepared for you guys, but I have some fun things planned.
> 
> Thank you so much for sticking with me this far!
> 
> ~shadowsong


	29. Part 4, Commander; Chapter 1

Luke had _never_ liked Empire Day. The whole Founding Week was full of long, boring speeches he had to sit still and listen to, and just about everyone was pretending to be a lot happier than they really were. Uncle Bail and Queen Velida were always really tense, Aunt Sabe usually wanted to stab things even more than usual, and Mamma got really sad. The only people who seemed like they _actually_ liked it were mean ones, like Governor Tarkin. Even Lord Specter, who was the second-scariest person Luke had ever met, was more mad than anything else. Like he just wanted it to be over. Probably so he could go back to doing scary stuff.

About the only thing that _wasn’t_ awful about the holiday was that there were usually starfighters doing tricks on at least one of the days, and Luke could pretend he was up there with them. Even his birthday couldn’t make it better, ‘cause he basically had to share it with the whole Empire _and_ he never got to see any of his friends. Not even Winter.

Last year had been _sort of_ okay, at least. Mamma had managed to set it up so they could spend the week in Theed, instead of Imperial Center. The speeches were still _boring,_ and Mamma was still unhappy, but at least the decorations were pretty flowers instead of army banners that tried to make him feel small. And he’d been able to play with Pooja and Ryoo, which was always nice even if his cousins were almost grown up and a lot older than all his other friends.

This year...this year was going to be different. For one thing, Mamma and Uncle Bail had had a _lot_ of quiet, unhappy calls that he wasn’t supposed to listen to in the last few days, which probably meant Something Important was about to happen. Or maybe had _just_ happened and they were dealing with it. And they were going to spend the _whole_ holiday in the capital this year--they were on their way back now. _And_  Aunt Sabe wouldn’t be with them like she usually was--there was going to be a new Queen next year, Mamma had said, and it was Aunt Sabe’s job to teach her handmaidens how to be really cool, like all of Luke’s aunts were.

So this year, Founding Week was going to be _especially_ not okay.

Except…

If that was all, it wouldn’t have been--well, it _would_ have been very sad, because he’d miss his cousins and _two_ of his aunts and probably have to see Governor Tarkin and Lord Specter and maybe even (he shivered a little) the Emperor, but...but…

There was something _else._ Something that made this year _extra_ different. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he knew it was there. The way he sometimes just _knew_ things. Like when there had been that really bad storm at the lake house last winter, and everything had flooded and they’d had to stay an extra three days.

(When he’d told her what he knew, Mamma had gotten all tight with worry and made him _promise_ not to talk about things like that with anyone except her or one of his aunts. She hadn’t cut their trip short to get away from the storm like he’d sort of thought she would, even though she’d had to miss a really important vote ‘cause she was late getting back, but she’d made sure they’d be safe and have enough extra supplies even when the power went out.)

And this was _sort of_ like that, only he didn’t know it was going to be a flood. He didn’t know _what_ it was going to be. Just that Founding Week this year was going to be _really, really_ important.

Luke wanted to believe that it might be the _good_ kind of important--that something would change and make life better, and make Empire Day less sad for Mamma, and less tense for Uncle Bail. Maybe he’d meet a lot of new people who hadn’t been to the parades before, and they’d be important lifelong friends. Maybe it would even be something that made Lord Specter less scary, somehow.

Except everything else that he’d noticed made it look like the _bad_ kind of important. The kind where maybe Mamma would have to go someplace where she might get hurt, and he’d have to go stay with Aunt Sola for a while, with Aunt Elle and Aunt Motee taking turns to sleep so one of them was always, always watching.

All in all, even though it really felt more like home than Naboo half the time, Luke was dreading getting back to Imperial Center. He’d rather spend Empire Day _anywhere_ else. The lake house would be best, of course, or Theed, with Aunt Sola and Gramma and Grandpa and the Queen, or maybe that place he dreamed about sometimes, where there was no pretend happiness, no Emperor, no Specter--nothing but a warm wind in his hair and a sky that never seemed to end…

He felt like a part of him was out there, wherever ‘there’ was. Maybe someday, if he was lucky, he’d get to see it for real one day.

He just had to get through Empire Day first.

 

* * *

 

Scowling a little with concentration, Leia wriggled into the narrow storage space above Daddy’s bunk on the _Waterfall._ There was _just_ enough room for her to fit, with all the spare parts and half-finished projects he kept in there. She pulled the panel shut behind her, then squirmed around in the dark until she found the position with the fewest things poking her that also didn’t make her arms and legs twist up all funny.

Once she was settled, she closed her eyes and breathed, thinking quiet, quiet thoughts. She’d never tried it _exactly_ like this before, but she was the _best_ at hide and seek. Biggs and Tank and everyone _always_ had to give up when it was her turn to hide. And she didn’t even have to stay up here _that_ long. Just until the ship went into hyperspace.

She’d been waiting maybe about five minutes when she heard footsteps approaching. Not Uncle Rex; his were heavier than this. And Aunt Beru’s were a little slower, and Uncle Owen never came on the _Waterfall,_ which meant--

The panel lifted open, and Daddy raised an eyebrow at her. “Come on, princess. We talked about this.”

She sighed, and uncurled to sit on the edge of the shelf, her legs swinging back and forth. “I wanna go with you.”

“No. It’s too dangerous.”

“But I can _help.”_

“No,” he said again. “Not this time. You’re not old enough.”

“I’m almost six!” she protested, hating the way it whistled through where she’d lost a tooth. It made it really, really _hard_ to talk people into doing what she wanted them to when she couldn’t even _sound_ like a grownup.

Besides, Daddy was _racing_ when he was her age. That was pretty dangerous--Aunt Beru wouldn’t even let her _watch,_ it was that dangerous.

“I know,” he said. “You still can’t come. Not this time.”

She pondered for a minute. “When, then?”

“What?”

 _“When_ can I come?” she asked.

“Uh…” He glanced off to one side, thinking. “In a few years, we can talk about it.”

A few years meant three. She’d be nine then, or almost--that’s how old he was when he’d left to be a Jedi. She decided she could accept that. For now. “And then I can go hit the bad guys with you?”

He made a face. “We can _talk_ about it,” he repeated.

She scowled again. “That means you won’t let me.”

“No, it means we’ll _talk about it.”_

“But I wanna _help,”_ she said. Because Daddy and Uncle Rex and Uncle Obi-Wan were always off doing Important Things, and there was a whole entire _galaxy_ out there--like the silver planet she dreamed about sometimes, with all the towers--and she _knew_ she could make it better. But all she was doing was waiting around on the farm, helping Aunt Beru and Uncle Owen and playing hide and seek with her friends. She could be doing more. And that meant she _should_ be doing more.

(She’d asked Daddy about the silver planet once. He’d gotten very quiet, and then asked her if it had been a _bad_ dream. When she’d said it wasn’t, he’d looked very relieved and told her not to worry about it. She’d borrowed Aunt Beru’s datapad later and found pictures of a place called Coruscant that looked _almost_ like her dream, but that was all she knew. It was very, very annoying, not knowing things.)

“I know you do,” Daddy said, running a hand over her hair. “But the best way you can help me right now, princess, is to stay here, with Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru, where it’s safe. So I don’t have to worry about you.”

She made a face. “That’s not _helping,”_ she muttered. Not like she meant, anyway.

“It is,” he said softly. “More than you know.”

And he meant it. She knew he did--she could always tell when people were lying to her, and anyway Daddy was _really_ bad at it--but it still didn’t feel like _enough._ “Okay,” she said anyway, because there wasn’t a lot else she _could_ say. Not until she was grown up.

 _Three years,_ she thought. That felt like a long, long time away.

“Okay,” he said, and kissed her cheek and lifted her down from the shelf. “I won’t be gone too long this time,” he added. “It’s your birthday next week. You didn’t think I’d forgotten, did you?”

“No,” she said. And that wasn’t the problem _at all,_ but it _did_ make her a little less unhappy. She liked that he made sure her birthday was always special, no matter what else was going on. Sometimes, he was gone for days and days and _days,_ but he _always_ came back on her birthday. “Is Uncle Obi-Wan gonna come with you?” He _usually_ did, but he was a lot less predictable than Daddy.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I’ll find out when I see him. Okay?”

“Okay,” she said again. She wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him tight. “You _sure_ I can’t come?” she tried one last time, turning her biggest, most beseeching eyes up at him.

It _did_ work _sometimes._

Sadly, this was not one of those times.

“Yes, I’m sure,” he said. “Come on, let’s get you back in the house, okay? The sooner Rex and I get going, the sooner we’ll be back.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I know.”

He gently peeled her off and, keeping hold of her hand, led the way out of the ship.

Aunt Beru was already halfway up the ramp when they reached it, and Leia _did_ feel a little bad when she saw how worried she’d probably been.

“Sorry, Beru,” Daddy said. “We just wanted one last goodbye.” He winked down at Leia, who rolled her eyes.

 _She’s not_ stupid, _Daddy._

Aunt Beru just _sighed,_ but she played along. “A little warning next time, Ani?”

“Of course,” he said, then bent down and kissed the top of Leia’s head. “Go on inside, princess. Be good. I’ll see you next week.”

Leia nodded and hugged him one more time. “See you next week,” she echoed, then jumped down off the ramp like she’d seen Daddy do a million times.

Aunt Beru _sighed_ again, but Daddy laughed. She grinned up at him, and he waved before disappearing back into the ship.

The two of them backed up towards the house, so they wouldn’t get blown over when Daddy took off, and watched until the _Waterfall_ disappeared into the sky.

“All right, sweetheart,” Beru said. “I need your help in the kitchen, come on.”

“Coming,” she said, scuffing her shoes a little as she did. It wasn’t that she didn’t _like_ helping Aunt Beru and Uncle Owen, too, it just...felt so _small,_ next to what Daddy did. Next to the silver planet in her dreams.

 _Three years,_ she reminded herself. _The galaxy will still be there to save._

If only it wasn’t such a long, _long_ time away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol, what even are children: Part 3.
> 
> The twins will be viewpoint characters from now on! I can't promise how often we'll hear from them, but from time to time. :D
> 
> Hope you enjoyed, and see you next week!
> 
> ~shadowsong


	30. Part 4, Chapter 2

Obi-Wan very rarely planned or staged operations this close to Empire Day.

Part of the reason was practical--security was usually tighter just about everywhere worth hitting, and the value in risking it anyway was more symbolic than substantive. Not that symbolic gestures didn’t have their place. For a resistance movement, in particular, they could be vital. But the fact of the matter was he didn’t have the resources to spare for a grand statement, and nothing less would be worth the risk. A  _ loss _ during Founding Week would be as devastating to his network’s morale as a victory would be beneficial.

Or perhaps it was better to say  _ another _ loss.

It was...a difficult week for him, to say the least. Which was the other, entirely personal, reason he kept himself on the sidelines this time of year. Obi-Wan preferred to take the day--as much of the week as he could, really--and retreat somewhere for quiet contemplation, and to ensure that his motives remained what they should be. Revenge, after all, was not the Jedi way, and he worried that taking direct action at such a time might well push him to cross a line.

Either that, or he might somehow shut down, which would be an entirely different disaster.

Anakin, he knew, had a different approach. Apart from Leia’s birthday, which was sacrosanct,  _ he _ preferred to keep busy, not allow himself to brood or fixate on all that had happened six years ago. Rex seemed to favor the same strategy. And there was almost always  _ something _ he could find for the two of them to do. Despite the practical concerns. This year, he had set them to a task similar to Anakin’s first field mission under the new system--they were to use the cover of the...celebration...to acquire a set of code keys. It would hopefully be sufficient to keep them occupied until it was time for them to return to the farm.

For his own part, he had one more--hopefully quick--operation to run, then he would go somewhere nice and quiet, out of the way. He hadn’t yet decided where he would go. Somewhere close to Tatooine, perhaps, so he could easily meet the others at the farm for Leia’s birthday.

That, however, was a decision for another day. Today’s problem were significantly less emotionally taxing--making contact with a rebel cell who had requested his aid and experience, and helping them plan and execute their operation on a very tight timeframe.

He had worked with this particular cell before, on two occasions. They were ten, largely human with two Nautolan compatriots. Internal tensions existed, but not to the extent he’d seen in other groups. They knew he was a Jedi, but not his specific identity. He was, of course, rather more famous than he had  _ ever _ liked, but a hood and mask seemed to have handled that potential concern. They knew him as Ben, and he knew them as a set of code names. Safer that way, for all of them.

(Although, he had to admit, it gave rise to a touch of bittersweet nostalgia--their aliases were often all too similar to the names the clones had chosen for themselves.)

The planet was a sparsely-populated one, with areas of dense woodland that were extremely useful for concealing--well, probably several things, including some he’d really rather not contemplate. For a ten-member rebel cell, three of whom had been born and raised here, melting in and out of the cover the trees provided was child’s play.

They had moved their base since his last visit, but he was meeting with one of their number--a short, slender young man who had been introduced to him as Reckoning--who would guide him in.

As planned, Reckoning was waiting for him at the same rendezvous point they’d used previously, sitting on a rock with no visible weapons--should any patrol come through this area, unlikely thought that was, he was simply a local youth out for a walk on a charming afternoon.

Obi-Wan, alas, was a little more conspicuous. Best they got moving quickly.

Reckoning scrambled up when he saw him, and gave a slightly awkward salute. “Good to see you, Ben. Any problems coming in?”

He shook his head. “No. Anything I should be aware of before we get there?”

Cleaver, the group’s nominal leader--they made all important decisions as a collective, but someone had to oversee the details once said decisions had been made--had given Obi-Wan a somewhat sketchy briefing when he’d reached out a few days earlier. There was a sizeable stockpile of the components used to make blaster power packs currently being guarded by the local garrison. Its exact provenance, let alone its final destination, was--well, if Cleaver had known, he hadn’t shared those details with Obi-Wan. But it was there, and they had reliable information that it would  _ not _ be after Empire Day.

The plan was, of course, to retrieve the half-made ammunition and redirect as much of it as possible to someone who would put it to better use. But Cleaver and his cell had never hit anything quite so large as this garrison, not with so little time to plan.

And so, Obi-Wan was here. One last, quick mission before his yearly retreat.

“No,” Reckoning was saying. “Cleaver’s got a scale model of the base worked up for you to plan from. We’re still finalizing the patrol schedule, but we should have enough to go on real soon.”

“Right,” he said, following half a pace behind Reckoning, deeper into the woods. He could certainly work with that.

The trek wasn’t very long--only about a quarter of an hour or so; the base was what looked like an abandoned forester or ranger’s hut, the sort used to keep an eye out for lost hikers or forest fires. Reckoning tapped in a complicated pattern that Obi-Wan absently memorized--not that it would do him any good, as it would likely be changed before he returned, even if the cell hadn’t moved again.

Cleaver himself opened the door. He was a large, solidly built man, half a head taller even than Anakin. He nodded. “Good to see you, Ben. Glad you could get here so quick.”

“As am I,” Obi-Wan said, with a brief bow, then followed the two of them in.

Almost the entire cell was gathered inside. The only one missing was Moonshot, the female Nautolan of the group--probably, given what Reckoning had said, mapping patrols. She was what passed for the cell’s scout and intelligence officer.

And the promised model of the base was waiting for him, on a less-than-sturdy looking table in the center of the small room.

“Stationary guards are marked with red exes,” the male Nautolan, whose handle Obi-Wan couldn’t recall at the moment, said.

“Right.” He studied the base for a moment, noting the exes and extrapolating a rough estimate of the other troops that would be inside based on their number and dispersal. “East is that way?” he asked, pointing to the wall on the right, as one approached the model from the door.

“Yeah,” he replied--Lucky, that was his name; Obi-Wan remembered it now.

He nodded again and fell silent, tallying up the numbers and weapons they had at their disposal. “And the stockpile is there?” He pointed at a room in the southeast corner of the complex, backed up against a mountain. It’s where most people would store something so valuable--next to impossible to approach unseen, with a solid natural defense to add to what he could build.

“Yeah,” Lucky said again.

“Right, then,” he said. “I would suggest we split into two teams.” He outlined the basic sketch of his plan--he would take Moonshot and Reckoning and approach from due east, with the sunrise at their backs hopefully distorting their movements at least a little. Cleaver would lead the rest around from another direction, creating a diversion while the three of them managed the actual theft.

It was straightforward enough, at least in theory. He doubted that would last very long; it rarely did. But Reckoning thought fast on his feet, and Moonshot knew the base best of anyone in the cell. Any additional maneuvering he would have to do once they were in play would work better with the two of them.

“Any questions?” he asked, when he was done. There were a few--and Cleaver had a few suggestions of his own; one of the reasons he liked working with this group, they could think for themselves, and weren’t shy about pointing out when their knowledge of the environment would outweigh his field experience.

They had almost finalized everything--at least, insofar as they could while waiting for the last few pieces of intel--when another, slightly different, complex knock came at the door.

_ Ah, that would be our scout, I presume. _

And, sure enough, Moonshot stepped through the door and joined them at last. She was carrying a datapad, where she had noted down the patrol patterns. She tossed it to Obi-Wan, who skimmed through it, making a few minor adjustments to their overall plan as they went.

“Any problems?” Cleaver asked her, while she grabbed a canteen from Lucky and took a swig.

“Possibly,” she said. “I didn’t get caught or anything, but there may be an additional complication.”

Cleaver swore under his breath. “Yeah?”

“Navy ship just jumped into the system.”

The group went still for a split second, and Obi-Wan looked up from the datapad, frowning. That could be...very, very bad.

“‘Cause of us?” Reckoning asked.

“Doubtful,” Obi-Wan said, before  _ that  _ particular thread of paranoia could spiral out of control. And it was--while the cell was known to be active in the system, their plans shouldn’t have leaked. It had come together too quickly for that. Still, “Do you have their position?” he asked Moonshot. Because it couldn’t hurt to check, anyway.

She nodded, and he passed the datapad back to her so she could call up the coordinates.

He studied the readout over her shoulder for a minute, and then at last shook his head. “Looks like a routine stop or patrol,” he said. “Unfortunate timing, but it’s unlikely we’ve been compromised.”

The others, almost as one, let out a breath of relief. “Still,” Cleaver pointed out, “them being here means the base could call for reinforcements. Air support, faster than they can scramble their squadron.”

“Do we abort, then?” Moonshot asked, looking from Cleaver to Obi-Wan and back again.

And Cleaver looked at him. Nominal leader of the cell or not, he had asked for Ben’s help on this one for a reason.

Obi-Wan considered for a moment, keeping his hands still--quite apart from the mask being rather in the way, stroking his beard might be an identifiable enough tic that he tried not to do it under these circumstances. A difficult habit to break. “Do we have an ID on that ship?” he asked.

Moonshot nodded. “It’s the  _ Thunder Wasp. _ I think they’re mostly assigned to chasing down pirates and such.”

Not one he was familiar with, so no help there. Unfortunate--often, knowing the personalities of who he was dealing with made all the difference.  _ What I wouldn’t give to have a proper intelligence network again. _

“It’s your call,” he finally said. “It will be more difficult, certainly. And I won’t lie to you--if we proceed under these circumstances, our chances of getting out clean drop significantly. But we  _ can _ do it, and I doubt there will be another opportunity like this one.” He wished, briefly, that Anakin were here, instead of on his own mission--long odds like these were something of a speciality for his erstwhile apprentice.

But Anakin was not, and he could make this work with the resources he and his team had.

Cleaver nodded, and turned to the group. “Show of hands, then. Abort?”

Lucky and one other voted; the rest stayed still.

“All right,” Cleaver said. “Well, the rest of us are going forward. You two can decide for yourselves. Ben, will that work?”

Obi-Wan made a few quick calculations in his head--he would prefer not to drag anyone unwilling into a situation like this, anyway. Dropping their numbers from eleven to nine decreased their chances, but--not by enough to change his opinion. “Yes, we’ll manage.”

Lucky shook his head. “Not leaving you all to do something this stupid without me. Blueline?”

She nodded. “Yeah. What he said.”

“All right, then,” Cleaver said.

Well, if they volunteered anyway, he would take it. He studied the map one more time, considering the angles the  _ Thunder Wasp _ was likeliest to use on its way down, should it come to that. “Slight modification, then. Cleaver, you take your team around to this approach, from the south-west. The rest of us will go ahead as planned. Same timeframe, ideally. Any further questions?”

A general shaking of heads served for an answer.

“Good,” he said, then checked the time. “We’ve got some time to get in position. Moonshot, you’re with me and Reckoning. I’d like to head out in two hours.” That should give them enough time to deploy themselves under cover of darkness, without having to wait there and risk being stumbled upon by a sentry of any kind.

She nodded. “Sounds good, boss.”

He paused for a moment, then added, “Reckoning can brief you on the details. Cleaver, I’d like to review what weapons you have. Anything new since I was here last?”

“Few things,” he said, and Obi-Wan could hear the smile in his voice. “Nice Weequay smuggler came through here a couple months back.”

_ Hondo, _ Obi-Wan thought.  _ Always turning up at either the best or the worst possible time. Never the middle ground with you. _ “Show me?” he asked.

He nodded. “Right this way.”

It was probably unnecessary--and it certainly shouldn’t change the plan too much, but one never knew. There might even be something he could use, if Cleaver was willing to lend it. And it was a productive use of his time before they got moving.

_ Thunder Wasp _ or not, things were going well, for now. In all likelihood, this would wrap up within a local rotation, and he would be on his way before the base even pieced together that a Jedi had been involved.

He had a nagging feeling, though, that this mission was somehow going to get very complicated, very fast. And while fixating on that feeling would probably do more harm than good, he could hardly ignore it.

Besides. It couldn’t hurt to be prepared. Just in case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh, it is not super easy to write someone who is Very Smart and an expert in things which hopelessly confuse you. ...which is to say, any tactical errors in this chapter/Obi-Wan's portion of this arc are mine, not his. Apologies for them, and here's hoping they're not too bad. <3
> 
> ~shadowsong


	31. Part 4, Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As with last week's update, any tactical/action/military/combat errors are mine, not our narrator's.
> 
> Also, as a quick note: this arc is a slightly different structure/timeline than the last couple. In-universe, at least, everything moves fairly quickly. The next couple chapters are going to be more or less simultaneous with this one; all taking place over several hours/maybe two days on the outside. The arc as a whole takes place entirely during Founding Week, six years after ROTS. So, a little closer to _Aftermath_ , in terms of how to think that through? I'll do my best to make the order of events, in the different threads in different parts of the galaxy, as clear as possible, but just wanted to let y'all know.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for stopping by, and I hope you're still enjoying the ride!
> 
> ~shadowsong

The mission had, at least so far, gone remarkably smoothly. Rex and his General had encountered minimal resistance breaking into the base; the code keys were right where they were supposed to be; and General Skywalker had had no trouble at all in spoofing the security systems on their way in. They had, it seemed, reset since then, but that wasn’t much of a problem. And apart from that, it had been like clockwork, every step of the way.

Rex didn’t trust the quiet. Not one bit.

And maybe that was just paranoia--it was hard not to fall into that pattern as a guerilla soldier working side by side with two of the most wanted men in the galaxy, up against a juggernaut war machine with practically nonexistent support of their own. Or maybe it was just this karking week-- _Empire Day_ \--getting under his skin like it always did.

Well, all in his head or not, things were going _entirely too damn well,_ and every instinct Rex had was screaming, “Trap!”

 _Relax,_ he told himself, holding as still as he could while the General hotwired yet another inconveniently reactivated security grid blocking their exit route. _We’re not clear yet. There’s still plenty of time for something to go wrong._

“Got it,” The General finally said, shoving the wires haphazardly back into the wall and picking up his lightsaber. “Come on, quickly; it’ll start up again in a minute or so.”

Rex nodded and fell in behind him, careful to step only where he stepped--the floor was unlikely to be further trapped, not now that the main sensors had been cut off, but better safe than sorry. “They’re getting smarter,” he said, when he heard the faint hum of the system re-engaging behind him.

“It was bound to happen sometime,” he agreed. He paused for a split second at an intersection, then took the right hand path.

That turn, and the next several, went contrary to what the map Rex had memorized earlier would have suggested, but he trusted his General to lead them out the right way. Far more than he trusted the map.

The quiet was still getting to him, that was all.

After an increasingly tense--kriff, had it really only been a minute?--the General paused at a blank space in the wall. “D’you hear that?”

Rex cocked his head, listening--blaster fire, up ahead. A familiar sound; he felt some of the tension drain out of his shoulders. _Well, that explains why we had so little trouble. Garrison’s busy shooting someone else._ “Huh,” he said. “Looks like someone crashed our party.”

“Yep.” He grinned a little, slightly feral. “What do you say we return the favor?”

So, clearly, Rex wasn’t the only one bothered by how _easy_ this had all been. Plus, this week--General Skywalker was always spoiling for a fight. Every kriffing year, he went looking for one. Something simple, something he could _win,_ something that just might keep him from thinking too much.

“Well, sir,” he said. “Seems only fair. You want to go in quiet?” Which wasn’t the best word for it-- _nothing_ Rex’s General did was _ever_ quiet--but it was the easiest shorthand for ‘do you want to be an Obvious Jedi or am I lending you a gun?’

He considered a moment. “To start, at least.”

He nodded, and passed him a pistol, before making sure their stolen keys were still secure.

General Skywalker gave him another quick grin and a brief salute, then started off down the hallway again, picking up speed as he went; Rex was, as always, half a step behind.

They reached the main entrance of the base and found the source of the disturbance outside. It turned out to be what looked like an offworld team--professional, but not very well organized; likely assembled for this specific job (whatever it was; it didn’t much matter to Rex at the moment) and intending to scatter after they finished it and got paid. They had probably had the same idea he and the General were operating under; taking advantage of the numerous distractions the anniversary provided to make their move.

Under normal circumstances, Rex and his General would probably have left well enough alone at that point; they would have retreated, using the cover the mercenaries were providing to complete their own mission and get away clean. Most of the time, they couldn’t risk getting involved--not when it was just the two of them, and too damn much to lose. And, barring immediate and obvious evidence of misconduct, they couldn’t afford the luxury of confirming that an unknown third party shooting at stormtroopers was an actual ally, and not an underworld opportunist or a Shadow Collective affiliate or the like.

But today--today, there was a crew of what looked like civilian maintenance contractors, locals, cut off and pinned against the opposite wall by the firefight. They’d found themselves some cover, at least for now, and no one was shooting directly _at_ them, but there way no way to know how long that would last.

Besides. It was too damn close to Empire Day. And the General wasn’t the _only_ one spoiling for a fight.

General Skywalker wasted no time, firing off a shot at the nearest stormtrooper, dropping him and drawing the attention of the rest of the garrison and their attackers.

Rex was right there with him, letting off a few bursts of suppression fire and looking for the clearest path to reach and extract the trapped workers.

And then the General grabbed him and yanked him back, a split second before the ground where he’d been standing erupted in a burst of rock dust. Caused by, he quickly noted, a blast from one of the turret cannons on the wall behind them.

“Well,” Rex said, “looks like we got their attention.” _Cannon’s a bit much, though. On the other hand, the fact that we came from_ inside _the base probably made that gunner extra twitchy._

“No kidding,” he said. He sounded pleased. Somehow, Rex wasn’t all that surprised. “So, options?”

Cautiously, Rex poked his head out and fired off a couple shots, in case anyone got any bright ideas about approaching them, and took a quick look around. “We can probably get across--especially if we stick close to this wall, unlikely they’ll risk trashing their own base. Problem is, once we get to the workers, only thing we could do from there is blast through the wall and make a run for it.”

“Which would put us right back in range of the cannon, with a lot less cover,” General Skywalker finished for him. “Kriff. Was hoping you’d see something I hadn’t.”

“Sorry,” he said.

He shrugged, and fired off a couple more shots of his own. “It is what it is.”

He nodded. “So, we’re taking out the cannon, then?”

“We are taking out the cannon,” he agreed. “You got a couple charges on you, I’m guessing?”

“Couple being the operative word,” he admitted. There was always a balance, especially now that their team was so small, between stealth and armament. And, the goal for today’s mission being what it was, he had leaned more towards the former today. Three or four extra charges would’ve been nice right about now, but there was no real help for it at this point.

“We’ll make it work.” He frowned down at the pistol in his hand. “...eh, screw it.” He tossed the gun back at Rex and pulled his lightsaber out.

 _Saw that coming,_ Rex thought. Going in quiet, even metaphorically, _never_ lasted.

“Right,” General Skywalker went on. “Best approach would be…” He trailed off, tilting his head; brow furrowing a little in concentration.

“Sir?” Rex prompted after half a second. He picked off a stormtrooper who was trying to circle around and flank them. _Idiot,_ he thought. _Don’t they teach their shinies how to move quiet in armor anymore?_

“I...sense something,” he said slowly, eyes drifting half-shut. “Something I haven’t felt since--”

Abruptly, he cut himself off and, grinning like the madman he was, vaulted out from behind the cover they’d found, right into the hail of blasterfire.

Rex swore and tried to catch him and pull him back, half a second too late. He _missed._ By a very wide margin.

“I hate it when he does that,” he announced to the uncaring sky.

But there was nothing for it but to follow, as he always did. He checked first, to get an idea of where he was heading and how hard it would be to catch up--particularly given that it was a little harder for _him_ to just vault out from under cover without promptly getting himself killed.

With the ease of long practice, he immediately picked out the lightsaber in the--

Wait.

No.

He picked out the _lightsabers._ Plural.

There was his General’s blue blade, gliding through the smoky air with brutal efficiency, and…

The other two were white; the colors were wrong, but the patterns--he _knew_ those patterns.

Commander Tano was alive.

Commander Tano was _here._

He dropped back out of sight again, heart pounding. It wasn’t...it wasn’t panic this time, not like that market years ago, when he’d first reconnected with the General, but it was--it was _something._ More like the swamp, where he’d met General Kenobi again, maybe. He wasn’t sure if that was because--six years ago, it had only been _his_ General, not the others; and the Commander had left before that anyway. She’d been _safe._ Or she should have been.

Or maybe it was just time and repetition that made this...less difficult.

Or maybe he just didn’t have the adrenaline to spare for anything other than the fight spread around him.

 _Focus,_ he told himself sharply. There would be time enough to unravel all of that later. Right now, the Jedi-- _his_ Jedi, _both_ of his Jedi--were in the thick of things. Drawing all kinds of unfriendly attention. He had to pull himself together and go back them up, like he was supposed to. Like he had promised his General--and himself--he would.

On the other hand…

They _were_ drawing all kinds of attention. Which left _him_ a clear shot at the damn cannon.

That was a better plan. Especially given he wasn’t sure how the Commander would react to seeing him, and pushing that button in an active combat situation was a _bad_ idea.

So, that decided--and not wanting to lose the opportunity--he struck out; staying low to the ground and close to the wall.

He traded a couple shots back and forth along the way, with the few stormtroopers who seemed to have noticed what he was up to, but made it to the corner directly under the cannon turret intact.

Scaling it was actually _less_ of a challenge--the angle where the walls met gave him about a half-meter space where he wasn’t a particularly easy target for anyone on the ground.

So, he reached the top without dying--always a plus--shot the trooper who was manning the turret, then hauled himself up and placed his charges. Strategically. With any luck, they would do the job.

That done, he turned to jump back down off the wall, only to be met by a sentry, and greeted with a sidearm in his face.

Rather than drawing his own weapon, he reached for the stormtrooper’s, knocking the muzzle away from his face before the shot went off. _Idiot. Blasters are_ distance _weapons. What are they_ teaching _you?_

After that, it only took a few seconds of grappling to drive the other off the wall, but that ate up his time to get clear the way he’d wanted. He dropped flat, covering his head and neck as best he could as the cannon exploded behind him.

It wasn’t as bad as he’d thought. The relatively small explosion probably helped there, minimizing the shrapnel. A few small pieces of hot metal landed on his arms and back. Enough to sting in the moment, and probably hurt like _hell_ later, but not to do serious damage.

Ears ringing, he pushed himself back up and gave a quick salute to the General on the ground, letting him know he was all right.

Skywalker nodded, and--the Commander caught his eye, too. She flashed him a familiar, bright, pointed grin before diving back into the fray, and Rex felt an enormous weight lifted from his shoulders.

Because the message there was clear--she didn’t hate him, either.

And that was a boost that he needed, especially this week, as he got back to work himself.

 

* * *

 

From that point, it was clockwork again--and, this time, it didn’t feel like the calm before the storm. It felt like--it felt like coming _home._

Of course, what else could it have been, but clockwork? Against the three of them, especially with the mercenaries thrown into the mix and throwing them further off their game, a provincial garrison like this one didn’t stand a chance.

Rex stayed up on the wall for the rest of the skirmish, covering his Jedi from above. Would’ve worked better if he’d had a rifle, instead of his pistols, but he did all right. For their part, the Jedi got to the workers, and cut through the wall, and extracted every last one of them alive.

It had turned out to be a good day. A _very_ good day.

Rex caught up with them as the extracted workers were scattering, probably (not unwisely) unwilling to be caught with a pair of Jedi, no matter the gratitude they owed.

But there wasn’t time for a proper reunion yet. The three of them kept moving; better to put as much distance as possible, as _quickly_ as possible, between them and the base. And then, finally, the General slowed, and stopped, still a few klicks away from the _Waterfall._

Once he did, the Commander didn’t hesitate, but flung her arms around her former Master, holding him tight.

She was almost exactly as tall as he was now, Rex noticed. A reminder, one less painful than most, of how much time had passed. Of how much everything had changed.

The General clung just as tight.

“You’re alive,” she breathed. “You’re _alive,_ I didn’t--I wasn’t--I didn’t know if it was real or…”

“Wishful thinking?” he finished for her.

She nodded, and drew back--only to pull Rex in for a rib-crushing hug, too. “I _missed_ you,” she said. “All of you. So much.”

After a startled, awkward half-second, he hugged her back. “Missed you, too, Commander.”

Rex got the distinct impression that the only way General Skywalker could have been happier would be if General Kenobi and Leia and the Senator were here, too. The General positioned himself between the two of them, putting an arm around each of their shoulders. And, for a moment, they stood there like that, unmoving, and that was enough. Better than enough, in some ways. Anything else would be...overwhelming.

Eventually, the General broke the silence. “I’m sorry I didn’t--look for you,” he said. “We decided...back at the beginning, there was some discussion, and we figured it was safer not to.”

She nodded. “I didn’t even know where to _start_ looking,” she said. “And I...I wasn’t sure if--” She cleared her throat. “Anyway, I’ve--I’ve done all right. But it’s been...lonely, a little.”

“Not anymore,” General Skywalker said, firmly. Then paused. “If--I mean, if that’s what--”

“Don’t be stupid,” she said. “Of _course_ it’s what I want. I just...there’s something I need to wrap up first.”

“What?” he asked. “...wait, you weren’t with those people attacking the base, were you?”

“Them?” She shook her head. “No. I’ve been--I mostly work by myself. Or I have, until now, anyway. I was meeting a contact of mine, when I heard the shooting and went to investigate.” She paused, then winced a little. “My, uh, contact here is a forger. I was picking up something he made for--well, I’d bring you with me to the dropoff, but…”

“No, I get it,” he said. He seemed more than a little disappointed. Or resigned, maybe. That was a better word. “We’ve been...pretty scattered, too. Safer that way.”

“Yeah, exactly,” she said. “But it won’t take me long, I promise.”

“So, we’ll meet you after,” Rex said, softly. “Not here, we made a little too much noise, I think.”

“Nice to know some things haven’t changed,” she said, grinning. Then her smile slipped a little. “Is...is it just the two of you, or…? I mean, is Obi-Wan…?”

“He’s alive,” General Skywalker said, quickly.

“Oh, good,” she said, leaning against him a little, slumping in relief. “And he’s all right?”

“Yeah, last I saw him,” he assured her. “Which was four days ago. He’s not here with us, he had his own mission. A contact of his asked for help with--a weapons shipment, I think?” He looked to Rex for confirmation, who nodded. “I’ll contact him. He can meet us when he’s done. _All_ of us.”

“Yeah!”

“Tell him the Cinna rendezvous,” Rex suggested. “It’s a decent midpoint between here and where General Kenobi’s working, and not far from the farm.”

The Commander blinked. “The farm? What farm?”

Anakin grinned at her. “That’s where my daughter stays, while I’m in the field.”

“Your--you have a _daughter?”_ she said.

He nodded. “Her name’s Leia. She’s almost six, and she’s perfect. I don’t--uh, I don’t have a picture on me, in case I get captured, but back on my ship--or, I guess, at Cinna...”

“Right, sure, but--I get to actually _meet_ her, right?” she interrupted. “Your daughter? I can’t believe you have a _daughter._ I mean, I can, but--I do get to meet her?”

“What? Oh, obviously,” he said. “We’ll go to the farm, all of us together. After you finish your drop and we meet up with Obi-Wan.” He smiled again, a softer smile. “It’ll be...wonderful.”

“It will,” she said. “...um, where’s Cinna, exactly? I don’t think I know that system.”

“That’s ‘cause it’s not a system,” Rex said.

“It’s more like an inside joke,” the General said, with a slightly sheepish smile. If Rex remembered right, this particular one involved a bar fight, a Quarren accountant, and fourteen and a half shuura fruits. “That’s the safest way for me and Obi-Wan to set meetings when we run separate missions. References no one else can understand. I’ll give you the coordinates.” He had a pen--a physical pen, with physical ink--on him. He always did, for the letters he wrote to the Senator. Also seemed to be useful for situations like this. He took her hand and scrawled the numbers on it.

She was, apparently, still able to parse his terrible handwriting, because she studied her hand for only a few seconds before nodding. “Okay, got it,” she said. “Give me a day or so?”

“It’ll take us at least that long, anyway,” he said. “I backtrack a lot, unless there’s an emergency and I need to get somewhere on a tight deadline. I like to be sure no one’s following.”

“Besides, we don’t know how long it’ll take General Kenobi to finish his mission,” Rex said.

“So, I guess--if I don’t see you there in two days, I should worry?” she asked.

“Sound about right,” the General agreed.

She hugged them each one more time, hard. “I’d better go, then. The sooner I drop this off, the sooner I can get to Cinna.”

“Yeah,” he said, then repeated, a little softer, “Yeah. Hey, Snips?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s--good to see you again,” he said.

She nodded. “Yeah. May the Force be with you, Master.”

He bowed silently, and she returned the gesture, before slipping off, heading to her ship and the end of her mission.

As she disappeared from sight, Rex thought he heard the General murmur, “Right at this moment, it is.”

 

* * *

 

Darth Specter had, for his entire life, known the value of patience. He was a thief, and a hunter, and a Sith Lord, after all.

And, ever since he had first learned that Anakin _Skywalker_ was alive, he had spent every free moment studying and tracking every halfway-credible rumor, every known move the Jedi made. Watching. Waiting. Cultivating that patience as he stalked his ultimate prey.

Humans, he knew, were creatures of habit. More importantly, humans were fond of _patterns._ And it had taken months of research, tracing, connecting the tiniest of threads, but Specter had finally, only six weeks ago, put together a model for how Skywalker navigated. How often he dropped out of hyperspace on trips to reorient and backtrack, by what degree he changed his vectors--it wasn’t Skywalker’s home base, but it was the next best thing.

All Specter needed was a starting point, and an initial hyperspace vector, within an hour of when his prey began to move, and he could intercept him on the first or second redirect.

And now? _He had it._

There had been a convergence of assaults on an Outer Rim base mere hours ago. Skywalker, bold as brass, had been involved. Had drawn his saber. Had allowed himself to be caught on camera again.

And, twenty minutes ago, his ship had left the system. And Specter knew the direction he had gone.

He could not let this opportunity pass him by. It might be _years_ again before he had another.

True, it was Empire Day, and he technically had tasks to complete here on Imperial Center, but what did that matter? It was a waste of his talents, and everyone’s attention would be on the little girl, anyway. And initiative, when successful, had been rewarded in the past.

Besides. When he returned in triumph, to lay Skywalker’s head and saber at his Master’s feet, all would be forgiven.

More than forgiven. His Master would finally be _pleased_ with him. Proud of him.

Specter grinned to himself, as he darted out of the palace towards his personal ship, one shadow among many.

He knew Skywalker’s migration patterns now. He knew exactly where to intercept him. It was only a matter of time.

_I have you now._

Victory was within his grasp.

_And through victory, my chains are broken._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .... :D
> 
> (Like I was really gonna leave her out)


	32. Part 4, Chapter 4

Founding Week parties on Coruscant, Luke found, were just as boring than the ones at home on Naboo.

The only real difference there was the people. They were a lot more...he didn’t exactly know the word for it, but it wasn’t just that they were pretending they really liked what was going on, but they all  _ wanted _ things from each other, and they were  _ not _ very nice about getting it. Even if they pretended to be.

Plus, at least today, there were  _ red _ guards everywhere, not just the regular ones, which meant the Emperor was probably here somewhere. Which definitely made Luke a little scared, but--well, the Emperor wasn’t all that hard to hide from, at least on public days like this. Luke always, always,  _ always _ knew when  _ he _ was coming.

Not like Lord Specter, who snuck up on him sometimes, and then disappeared just as quick, leaving Luke feeling a little bit like that one time when he’d climbed up on the balcony railing in the apartment just to see if he could; only not at  _ all _ exciting like that had been, and without the comfort of home behind him, only the long, long fall through traffic all the way down to ground he couldn’t see.

But Lord Specter wasn’t  _ here. _ Which was weird. Luke was pretty sure he was  _ supposed _ to be. Partly because he  _ usually _ was, and partly ‘cause Mamma and Aunt Mon and Uncle Bail had been whispering about it, the way grownups always did when they didn’t want Luke to know what was going on.

He didn’t know where Uncle Bail and Aunt Mon were right now, except they were  _ somewhere _ in the room. He was standing next to Mamma, like he was supposed to, while she talked about boring things with a Senator he didn’t know. It was all he could do not to  _ sigh, _ or start fidgeting and maybe make Senator Stranger ask  _ him _ questions. Which was always really, really awkward ‘cause he could tell they didn’t actually care about his lessons, or any of the other things grownups asked him when they were trying to fill time waiting for Mamma or trying to make her like them by pretending to be nice to him.

And he knew he wasn’t supposed to, but Mamma probably wouldn’t even notice for a few minutes, and he was really, really tired of standing still and pretending to smile at people who ignored him.

So he backed up a few steps and, when Mamma didn’t catch him, snuck off to the edge of the room, out of the press of the crowd and started wandering around aimlessly, trying not to catch anyone’s eye.

He ducked behind a column to avoid Grand Moff Tarkin--who, luckily, usually didn’t even  _ pretend _ to be interested in him, but was  _ mean; _ Luke didn’t want to have to talk to him at  _ all. _ Besides, Grand Moff Tarkin might try to walk him back to Mamma if he saw him by himself, which would probably mean talking, and  _ not _ be good.

He waited until he was sure he’d been missed, then he breathed out slow, relieved.  _ That was close.  _ He was turning to wander back into the crowd--he probably  _ should _ go back to Mamma; he didn’t want her to worry--when he spotted the little girl. Who was probably the  _ only _ kid here except him. Or, at least, she was the only one he’d seen, or had a chance to talk to.

Obviously, that meant he should go say hello. Even if she was littler than him.

She was perched on the edge of a bench, totally still; not even swinging her legs or  _ anything,  _ like Luke probably would have been if he’d been left by himself like it looked like she was. She had red hair that was just long enough to braid, and was wearing a white dress. Except--not a nice, friendly white, like Aunt Mon always wore. It was harder, more like stormtroopers.

It looked sort of...wrong, on a kid. And it made her look even more small and sad and lonely.

By the time he’d noticed all that, he’d reached her bench, and she’d noticed him, too. She tilted her head, like she was wondering what he was doing there.

“Hi,” he said, and smiled.

She blinked at him, twice. “Hi,” she echoed.

“I’m Luke,” he said. “Naberrie.” He bowed a little, like Aunt Sabe had showed him, for when you know someone’s Important but you’re don’t exactly know  _ how much. _

“Lavinia,” she said, pronouncing it really careful, like she had a little trouble with it sometimes and wanted to be sure to get it right the first try. She didn’t add her last name, but she might be little enough that she didn’t know it.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he said. “Can I sit on your bench?”

“Okay,” she said, and scooted over a little bit to give him room.

“Thanks,” he said. “Did you get bored, too?”

She shrugged one shoulder. “Lotsa people.”

He nodded. “Yeah.” This  _ was _ bigger than any of the stupid parties on Naboo got. “...we could probably go outside. I think there’s a balcony…”

She shook her head. “Not s’posed to.”

“Oh,” he said, a little disappointed. He wasn’t really supposed to, either, not without one of his aunts or the other security people, but if Lavinia had said yes, then he probably could’ve gotten away with it. And it was probably nicer outside than in here.

He swung his legs back and forth. “Wanna play a game?” he asked.

“What game?” she asked.

“Um, Mamma and I play one where we pick a color, and see who can find someone wearing it first?” That game was easier on Naboo. People wore a lot more pretty colors there. But it was something they could play without getting in trouble for being somewhere they weren’t supposed to be, and didn’t need any toys or running around or anything. Best kind of game for stupid grownup parties.

“Okay,” she said. “Blue?”

He nodded, and started looking at the crowd. “There! In the corner, with the gold necklace, talking to Senator Taa.”

She leaned forward a little, frowning. “See it!” she finally said, and smiled a little uncertainly at him. “You pick.”

“Okay,” he said. “Red. And guards don’t count,” he added, quickly, realizing after he said it that it had been a stupid choice.

“Oh,” she said, and studied the crowd. “There,” she said, pointing. “With the kitty hat.”

It took Luke a minute to find who she was pointing at. “Right! That’s really good, Lani, I didn’t see her.” Then he paused. “Uh. Is Lani okay?” It was easier than Lavinia, probably especially for her, and it felt--right. Like she  _ should _ have something little and private, like Mamma was Padme Naberrie with him and his aunts and his cousins and Uncle Bail, but Senator Amidala with other people, when she had to do important things.

“Um.” She frowned, thinking it over. “Okay. Lani’s okay.”

_ “There _ you are.”

Luke jumped a little, and turned to see Mamma coming around the corner, looking like she was a little bit mad at him for sneaking off, but mostly happy to see him there and okay.

And, just like he’d guessed, “Lulu, sweetheart,  _ please _ don’t wander off like that.”

“Sorry,” he said, ducking his head a little because he  _ was. _

“It’s all right,” she said, ruffling his hair. And then glancing over at Lani, like she was seeing her for the first time.

“This is my friend, Lavinia,” he said. “Lani, this is my mamma, Senator Amidala.” Because when you introduce someone, you’re supposed to use their public name, not the private one. At least not at Court.

Mamma tensed just a little bit next to them, and said real nicely, “It’s lovely to meet you, Your Highness.”

_ Highness? _ Luke blinked.  _ Lani must be a princess. Like Winter. _

Except...she wasn’t really all  _ that _ much like Winter, and Mamma didn’t think she was, either. And there was a red guard right there, which maybe meant…

He didn’t like to think about that.

“Hi,” Lani said, then, just as careful as when she’d said her name, like she’d practiced a million million times, she added, “Nice to meet you.”

Mamma smiled again, and it felt a little less tense. Maybe. “Thank you,” she said. “I’m really sorry, but I need to take Luke back now. Is that all right?”

Lani nodded, her eyes flicking over to him. She smiled a little, uncertainly.

He smiled back, letting Mamma take his hand and pull him up off the bench in the meantime. “I’ll find you later, okay?” he said.

“Okay.”

Mamma hesitated a second before drawing him away, glancing over at the red guard for a minute. “Is there someone looking after you?” she asked.

“Uh-huh,” she said, and nodded at the guard. “Him.”

_ That _ didn’t make Mamma happy at all. Luke felt her tense up again just a little bit, frustrated. “All right,” she said. “Say goodbye, Luke.”

“Bye,” he said automatically, then hesitated half a second before asking, “Can I give you a hug?”

Lani blinked, and then looked uncertainly at her guard before nodding. “Okay.”

So he did, quick, because she seemed sort of confused by the whole thing, and he didn’t want to make her unhappy. Hugs weren’t supposed to upset people.

And something about the way Lani reacted--but he didn’t know what--made Mamma a little mad, and really, really sad. Which was  _ not _ good.

“Bye, Luke,” Lani said, when he let go.

“Bye,” he said again. “See you later!” And he  _ would,  _ somehow, even if “Highness” plus a red guard watching her probably meant a  _ lot _ more times when he’d maybe have to be close to the Emperor. But Lani really,  _ really _ needed a friend.

Even if Mamma did  _ not _ seem happy about any of this.

She nodded, and he let Mamma pull him away, back into the crowd to talk to boring grownups instead.

 

* * *

The event had not gone the way it was supposed to. Yes, Padme had planned to use this opportunity make contact with the Emperor’s daughter, try to begin establishing a rapport with her. It was the child’s first public appearance; their first  _ chance _ to try and do something to help her.

But it was supposed to be  _ her, _ or Bail, who did it. (Mon had begged off, with the reasonable--and not entirely inaccurate--excuse that she wasn’t all that good with kids.) It certainly wasn’t supposed to be  _ Luke. _

Except she and Bail had gotten distracted by Darth Specter’s conspicuous absence, trying to figure out what it might mean and how much trouble their movement might be in as a result, and Luke had wandered off, and…

Padme had spent the last six years very carefully keeping Luke on the periphery; present but in a position to be more or less ignored. Or, at least, not  _ attract _ any attention.

But Luke had wandered off, and come across a lonely little girl, and she couldn’t fault him for reaching out. She wasn’t even all that surprised; Luke had a seemingly endless capacity for making friends with people. She hadn’t even told him that Princess Lavinia was supposed to be at the event, concerned that he might  _ actively _ try to find her if she did.

_ Maybe I should have left him back at the apartment. _ She’d seriously considered it, but she had always brought Luke to Founding Week events on Naboo, unless they were restricted or too late in the evening. This one wasn’t either, and she’d been worried that breaking pattern would draw too much attention.

There was no help for it now. Luke had made contact. She would just have to adjust her plans--and the layers of protection she had tried to give him--accordingly.

Somehow.

This also meant that they had to have a serious talk, one she’d hoped to avoid for at least another couple of years. She knew--she’d always known--that someday she’d have no choice but to involve her son in her illicit activities, but she’d wanted his--he should have been able to hold on to his innocent ignorance for longer than six years.

Both of them were very quiet on the ride back to the apartment, after the event was finally over. Luke was fidgeting a little in his seat, off and on, but he waited until they were home and she led him into the sitting room.

“Are you mad at me, Mamma?” he burst out, before she could say anything.

“What?”  _ He must have realized how upset I was. Damn it. _ She could never tell him much he picked up from her, and how much of that was dangerous, and how much was just children being way more perceptive than adults gave them credit for. “No. No, sweetheart, of course I’m not mad at you.”

He nodded. “I know I’m not s’posed to wander off an’ talk to people you don’t know, only--only she needs someone to be her  _ friend,” _ he said, all in a rush, “and--and--”

She hugged him close. “I know,” she said, as soothingly as she could. “I know. I would never tell you not to be her friend.” As complicated as it made their lives--as dangerous as it was for him…

That  _ had _ been the plan. And that poor child  _ did _ need someone. It just...wasn’t supposed to be Luke.

He nodded against her shoulder, clinging tight.

She just held him for a minute, thinking through exactly what she was going to say next. “But I want you to be careful,” she said at least, pulling back to look him in the eyes.

He nodded again, little face very serious. “‘Cause she’s the princess?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“And ‘cause of…’cause of what you and Uncle Bail whisper about?”

She went still for a second.  _ Speaking of children picking up more than we give them credit for--I  _ hope _ that’s all this is. _

“I won’t tell anyone,” he said, quickly. “I promise.”

“I know you won’t,” she said. “That’s not why we whisper in front of you.” She paused, considering the best way to phrase it, then very carefully added, “Lulu, there are things I can’t tell you. Things Uncle Bail and I are doing, and you might get in trouble if you know about them. With some very scary people.”

“Like Lord Specter?”

Who was still missing, and that  _ bothered _ her. “Like Lord Specter, yes. We’re trying to make it so no one has to be scared of people like him anymore. But right now, that’s hard, and we have to be very, very quiet about it. Okay?”

He nodded. “Okay.” He hesitated for a minute. “Does me being friends with Lani make that harder?”

_ A little. _ “We’re going to be watched even more,” she said. She wasn’t going to lie to Luke. Not about something this important. “At least for a while. But I think you’re right, and she needs someone to be her friend right now. And I think that, someday, that’s going to help us all. Even if it gets scarier first.”

He pondered that for a long minute, then took a deep breath, set his jaw in a familiar, mulishly stubborn angle, and nodded. “Okay. But I can still be her friend?”

_ Oh, my brave, sweet boy. _ She wasn’t sure whether she was more grateful or upset that he seemed to grasp the seriousness of the situation. She  _ did _ know that she was proud, very proud, that he was still willing to help, that he still wanted to reach out and make friends, anyway. She just hoped that, whatever happened with Lavinia in the long run, this didn’t burn that open sweetness out of her son.

So Padme smiled, and kissed his forehead. “I won’t tell you no,” she said. “But I can’t promise that the Emperor will let you.”

“Oh.” Another thoughtful silence. The kind that, if this were her, or Ani, she’d be worried he was considering doing something dangerous to get around that problem.

“Be  _ careful,” _ she reminded him.

Luke nodded, and hugged her again. “I’ll be good.”

“I know you will,” she said, holding him close.  _ But that’s not the same as  _ careful.

It wasn’t how she would have chosen this to happen--any of this; reaching out to Lavinia, or starting to bring Luke into her work. But what was done was done, and Luke had all the right instincts, now that he was in play.

So she took comfort in his promise anyway, and resolved to be careful  _ for _ him if she had to. That would have to be enough.


	33. Part 4, Chapter 5

Obi-Wan slipped through the trees behind Moonshot and Reckoning, moving into their final positions just as the planet’s single, reddish sun began to rise. They should appear, to any observers, as nothing but three more forest creatures drifting ever closer to the base along curls of early morning mist; moving silently through the faint, uncertain light.

He’d gone quiet for this mission, of course; leaving behind all communication devices save one, short-range, that worked only in burst-code, not holos or even voice. Reckoning had a similar one; brought along in case they needed to get in touch with Cleaver’s team. Certainly he had nothing on him that could send or receive from off planet, not even his emergency distress beacon; not with the  _ Thunder Wasp _ hovering in the system, substantially increasing the danger of interception.

He could only hope that he wasn’t missing anything important. But the relative risk to his mission and this cell was the greater one. Or so he kept telling himself, despite his lingering unease.

The short-range receiver buzzed once, paused, then twice more, pulling him out of his thoughts and returning his focus where it belonged. Cleaver and the others were in position. Obi-Wan, Reckoning, and Moonshot’s window to act was officially open--but it wouldn’t be for long.

The timing, at least, was on track so far; they had only just reached the end of the cover the trees provided. The Empire was not foolish enough, particularly on a planet with active insurgency, to allow anyone to slip in too close due to the environment. They needed a distraction before they could proceed; but the longer Cleaver and his team were out there, the likelier it became that they would see significant casualties.

That was something Obi-Wan would very much like to avoid, if at all possible. Especially this week.

Reckoning sent back their confirmation and the three of them held there for several seconds, waiting for--

_ Ah, there it is. _

A not-too-distant explosion shook the air, and a plume of smoke lazily drifted up from a sharp rise at the foot of the mountain range, on the opposite side of the base.

Beside him, Moonshot let out a breath and started to push forward, but he caught her sleeve.

“Not yet,” he murmured, then let his eyes drift half-closed, sinking into the Force and  _ listening _ for the right moment.

The currents of the immediate conflict swirled around him; there were Clover and the others; there, the garrison scrambling to respond; and there, looming above, the  _ Thunder Wasp, _ the unknown. He resisted the broader tides of the wider war, concentrating on those three nearby ripples.

“Now,” he said at last, letting go the Nautolan’s sleeve and starting for the base himself at a quick, steady pace. His lightsaber was out and ready to deflect the first barrage of blaster bolts from the few guards still watching this direction, angling them back at their source. Reckoning, who was the better shot of his two companions, added a return volley of his own.

There was no second burst from the wall.

Still, it was a tense and  _ entirely _ too exposed two minutes to get them across to the base entrance.

Moonshot and her datapad made quick, quiet work of slicing through the lock. Obi-Wan stretched ahead with his senses briefly. “We’re clear,” he said.

She nodded and pressed the final keys; the door slid open noiselessly at her request. Reckoning went through first; then Obi-Wan signaled Moonshot to go ahead--it was generally better for him to either take point or rear in situations like this one. Point by his preference, but Reckoning had beat him to it.

The door slid shut behind him, and he felt the lock engage again.

From there, it was Moonshot’s turn to take the lead, guiding them along corridors that were-- _ still _ \--all too familiar for Obi-Wan. But there had been  _ some _ design modifications in the last six years, so her map and recent scouting were far more reliable than his memories.

Reckoning covered them in the traditional way, while Obi-Wan focused on exuding a general sense of “nothing-to-see-here;” a sort of broad-range, much weaker mind trick. This technique, in his experience, had only about a fifty-fifty chance of actually  _ working, _ but on a mission with as little margin for error as this one, anything helped. Besides, it was easy enough to abandon the effort, should his focus become necessary elsewhere.

Today, fortunately, seemed to fall on the positive half of that divide. They were nearly two thirds of the way to their target before they saw any trouble; a single stormtrooper on watch. Reckoning took him out before he could do more than just barely register them through Obi-Wan’s interference.

And then the Force rippled again; like a mechanical scream echoing through atmosphere.

_ Oh, not good. _

“Ben?” Moonshot asked, when he paused.

“I think we have some new friends coming in,” he said. “Cleaver certainly got their attention.”

She swore. “They’re calling in Navy reinforcements?”

“I believe so, yes.” True, he wasn’t entirely certain whether that sound, that illusory TIE fighter in flight, was a five-minute warning or a more immediate alarm, but he  _ was  _ sure that contact with the  _ Thunder Wasp _ had been made.

And it may not affect his team and their half of the operation very much, but if his alert  _ was _ ahead of the Navy’s arrival, it might make all the difference for Cleaver and the others.

He sent a brief message, just in case. The short-range comlink buzzed once in acknowledgement.

“So, what now?” Reckoning asked softly.

“We stick to the plan,” Obi-Wan said. There was little else they could do from where they were.

“We could try to get to the comm center,” he suggested. “Cut them off, at least from coordinating properly.”

_ Wouldn’t do much good at this point, and it would eat up precious time and resources. _

Moonshot beat him to it, shaking her head. “We’re on the wrong side of the base. Ben’s right, we stick to the plan. And the sooner we finish, the sooner Cleaver and the others can get clear.”

Reckoning nodded, and the three of them got moving once more, continuing their infiltration with a renewed sense of urgency.

When they reached the storeroom, they at last encountered serious, direct resistance. The four men left to guard the magazine were  _ not _ taken in by Obi-Wan’s Force manipulation. At all.

Moonshot and Reckoning immediately moved out of the line of fire; a brief, bright splash of pain blossomed from the young man--he’d been hit, but it wasn’t serious. Obi-Wan focused on drawing and deflecting the guards’ fire so the others had room to respond.

A squeal of feedback burst out of all four helmets, and the blasterfire let up for just a moment.

Moonshot had jammed their comms. With extreme prejudice.

_ Excellently done. _ Obi-Wan smoothly stepped into his temporary advantage, clearing their way.

_...could I have done better than that? _ he thought a half-second later as Reckoning and Moonshot cautiously came out from under cover. _ Did I have to kill them all? _

Perhaps he did--any other day, he might even say ‘probably;’ Moonshot’s trick wouldn’t have lasted more than a precious second or so, and he had two companions to protect, one of them injured, besides himself.

Or perhaps it was this week, and those helmets--which  _ were _ different, yes, but not  _ nearly _ different enough--and his response had been excessive.

_ This _ was why he avoided combat during Founding Week. Because he did not know how far he could trust himself. And, whether or not it was merited, that doubt toxic. He could not do what he needed to do, act how he needed to act, be who he needed to  _ be, _ when struggling with those kinds of thoughts.

_ I cannot worry about that now, _ he decided as Moonshot pushed past him to slice through the storeroom’s lock.  _ I can do my best to work through it when we get out of here, and I find somewhere quiet to wait out the rest of the anniversary. _

Especially as Reckoning was a little worse off than he had initially thought; not putting any weight on his left leg at all, which nudged something deep in the back of Obi-Wan’s head--but not clearly enough for him to respond to right then and there.

So, instead, he extinguished his lightsaber and slid under Reckoning’s arm to help him stay upright. “How bad is it?” he asked in an undertone.

“Might slow our escape,” he said, voice a little tight with pain. “Sorry.”

“We’ll make it work,” Moonshot cut in, as the lock clicked and the door slid open in front of her.

Obi-Wan and Reckoning were almost through when the day rather spectacularly turned  _ completely _ against them.

A half-dozen stormtroopers, walking with purpose, rounded the corner to pin them down.

Time slowed for a split second, allowing Obi-Wan to consider the possibilities--one of the four original guards must have raised the alarm before Moonshot jammed them; which meant there were quite possibly more adversaries on their way.

Even if that weren’t the case, and he simply brute-forced his way past those six, Reckoning was vulnerable, and the now-exposed ammunition in the storeroom behind him made starting a firefight...unwise.

Which meant there was only one direction they could go.

Time sped up again.

Obi-Wan dragged Reckoning back through the door, into the storeroom, then drew his blade again and, once the door was shut, slammed it through the lock.

Sealing them in.

For a long moment, they were silent, other than Reckoning’s heavy breathing. Obi-Wan took the time to send another coded message to Cleaver-- _ Pull out. Don’t wait for us. Scatter. _ \--and could only hope that  _ they _ weren’t now being jammed.

“What now?” Moonshot asked quietly, her wide, pupiless eyes glittering in the low light.

“We’ll think of something,” he said. He gently set Reckoning down, leaning against a stack of crates.

The situation was rather bleak--surrounded by half-built and highly volatile ammunition, trapped between a squad of stormtroopers at their front and a sheer mountain cliff at their back.

But they had time, and space, to formulate some sort of plan.

He closed his eyes, let out a breath, and opened them again. “All right. See if you can find anything resembling medical supplies in here.”

She nodded and disappeared among the shelves.

“You’ll be all right for a moment?” he asked Reckoning, who nodded. “All right. I’m going to see about finding an exit.”

“Good luck.”

Obi-Wan smiled at him, briefly. “In my experience,” he said wryly, “there’s no such thing as luck.”

_ And if there were, I certainly wouldn’t depend on it today. _

He set off down another aisle, in the opposite direction than the one Moonshot had taken, and began to search the room for a way out.

 

* * *

 

“You were right,” the base Commandant said grudgingly. “There  _ was _ a second team, going for the ammunition. They’ve now barricaded themselves in with it.”

Which just made an already terrible day that much worse. He did  _ not _ like being shown up like this. All he had karking  _ asked for _ was a little extra aerial support, a little firepower, to deal with those thrice-damned guerilla rebels before they melted back into the woods  _ again. _

_ Well, _ he thought,  _ at least the ammunition didn’t get stolen right out from under me, and at least  _ those _ three aren’t melting away anytime soon. _ He just wished he didn’t have to share the credit like this. Especially when one of the captives was a karking  _ Jedi. _

On the other hand, while there was no way  _ out _ of the storeroom, there wasn’t exactly a way  _ into  _ it, either. Not one that didn’t risk setting off the ammunition stockpile and blowing up the entire karking base. Or, at least, bringing a significant chunk of the mountain down on top of it.

Well, that was a silver lining, he supposed--having to share the credit  _ also _ meant getting to share the blame if things did end up exploding. If the Jedi and the others  _ had _ stolen the ammunition, he wouldn’t have had that benefit.

“So,” he said, as he leaned back in his chair, ruthlessly suppressing a self-satisfied smirk. “Ideally  _ without _ blowing us all to hell, how would  _ you _ suggest we get them out of there, Commander Thrawn?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Put together with reference to [this timeline](http://isaakfvkampfer.tumblr.com/post/160608607104/timeline-of-thrawn-i-didnt-include-all-the) of the _Thrawn_ novel (fudging a little bit for narrative convenience). There are spoilers in there, if you haven't read said novel.
> 
> Also, as a reminder, I haven't seen _Rebels_ yet--most of what I know of Thrawn is from the old Legends canon, which I'm drawing from as it suits the story. I'm also deviating from canon backstory that wouldn't have necessarily shifted with my timeline breakpoint in a few other respects (most notably, I think, with Rex? And possibly Ahsoka, if I'm remembering her novel correctly), but in the interests of not rambling on for several paragraphs and/or inadvertently spoiling one of the books I have read for anyone who hasn't, I'd be happy to discuss further on [my writing tumblr](http://shadowsong26fic.tumblr.com)\--feel free to send me an ask!
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> ~shadowsong


	34. Part 4, Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a note, this chapter gets a little violent. It's also really long--I actually thought about splitting it in two, but I decided it was more effective as a single chapter.

_One of these days,_ Anakin thought, _I’m going to find the time to figure out how to build a hyperdrive that can course-correct at lightspeed._

He’d mentioned the idea to Artoo once, a couple years back. The droid had pointed out that physics didn’t work that way, because he was utterly lacking in imagination, and Anakin had said so. Artoo, of course, had insulted him right back before going back to his nav calculations.

Anyway, the limitations of physics and droid imaginations aside, until he _did_ find the time, Anakin would have to put up with dropping out of hyperspace to adjust. It wasn’t like he could _stop_ doing that, because the alternative was leading potential pursuit to a rendezvous point they’d then be unable to use; or to a safehouse, assuming he ever needed to go to ground or seek more medical attention than Beru could give him; or to Dagobah, or the _farm…_

But still, even though he and Rex and Artoo had the redirects down to two minutes or less, it bothered him. A little. Made him feel--exposed. Vulnerable.

And it was worse than usual today. Maybe it was just the time of year--he _hoped_ it was just the time of year--but…

Another part of it was maybe--well, Ahsoka was _back_ now, barring a few loose ends she needed to tie off. And that was of course the single best thing that had happened in his life for at _least_ a year or two, but at the same time--she was one more person he had let down, when he failed at being the Chosen One (And earlier, when everything had gone to hell and she’d left, except maybe there were other people who shared the blame on that one. _Maybe.)_ It had--brought a lot of buried memories closer to the surface than he liked. Plus, she was one more person he would put in actual, real _danger_ if he screwed this up.

And it probably didn’t help that their reunion had been so quick, and then she’d had to run off again. Not that he didn’t understand _why--_ of course he did; she wasn’t _leaving_ again, she’d be back for good in a day or two--but it felt...unsettled. Unfinished. Like that split second, jumping off a wall, where you’re weightless in a place you shouldn’t be before gravity takes over again.

He was _still_ waiting for gravity to come back.

There had been a moment of that with Rex, too, of course--maybe even more intense--but then they’d had a few days, and a trip to the farm, to get used to one another again. To figure out how they related to one another, now that everything had changed.

But with Ahsoka, it had just been--noticing each other, then the whirlwind of combat (which was, of course, something they both excelled at, especially together; falling back into place _there_ had been easy as breathing), then a five-minute discussion and a few quick promises, and then--separated. Again.

It had all happened so fast--she’d been there again and gone again so _fast_ \--that he might’ve questioned whether or not it was even real if Rex hadn’t been there and confirmed it.

Well, that part, at least, would probably get better when they all actually got to the Cinna rendezvous point, and could _finish_ reconnecting. Probably. Hopefully.

 _Or at least that corner of my brain might actually shut up for a minute or two,_ he thought.

In any case, that went a long way towards explaining his extra tension, a few minutes out from his first redirect. Even if there was a (most likely positive) end to that particular stress in sight.

But then--there was _also_ the fact that Obi-Wan hadn’t responded to his message and confirmed the meet yet. Which-- _probably_ just meant he’d had to go quiet for his mission. Since he was raiding an ammunition stockpile on an active base, that made a lot of sense.

Besides, it hadn’t even been twelve hours since he’d sent the message--requesting an _immediate_ meeting, because that meant important but _positive,_ while an _urgent_ meeting would’ve meant bad news. Still, it technically hadn’t been long enough to worry. Not yet. Unless otherwise discussed ahead of time, he wasn’t allowed to go try and rescue Obi-Wan until he’d been out of contact for at _least_ twenty-four hours.

(Technically, the rule was “don’t worry,” but even at the best of times, _that_ was a losing battle for both of them. So it had turned into “don’t dash off to rescue,” because that one they could sometimes pull off.)

And the rule _was_ there for a reason; to keep either of them (all right, mostly Anakin) from going off the rails. Still. It bothered him, to stand aside and do _nothing._ More than usual, today. Even if it was probably business as usual and he shouldn’t worry.

It was all of it together, really, he decided. The date, his half-finished reunion with his Padawan, his Master’s unscheduled silence…

 _As long as we all get to the Cinna point, it’ll be okay,_ he told himself, again. _And then we’ll go to the farm and see Leia, which always makes everything better._

He closed his eyes, letting out a slow breath and trying to build a wall out of that thought; one that would at least mostly shut his anxieties out.

He hadn’t made much progress--not that he’d really expected to, to be fair--when Artoo beeped at him. It was time to drop out of hyperspace and actually make the redirect, the first of five he had planned for this trip. He sighed and opened his eyes and stretched, trying to at least _act_ casual and unconcerned, and pulled the lever to revert to realspace.

As soon as the stars solidified around him, that general creeping tension abruptly turned into a _siren,_ blaring right in his ear.

He swore and banked left, _hard._ This was always a risk; that one of his redirect points would have someone unfriendly for him to blunder into. It had happened once or twice before, even, but this time--felt different.

“Get us out of here,” he snapped at Artoo, trying to track down the reason for that feeling, when--

A single needle-like starfighter shot across his viewscreen, a deeper shadow against the black of space; a vortex of raw darkness spiraling around it and out of it across Anakin’s senses.

And he _knew._

The darkness swirling around it was not like Dooku, who had been all icy precision. This--this being felt hot, _eager._

_Darth Specter._

And then something clanked against the side of his ship, pulling his attention back to the more immediate problem. Artoo shrieked an alarm.

“Wh-- _buzz droids?”_ Anakin yelped, banking again. “Seriously? Who the--who the hell uses kriffing _buzz droids_ anymore?”

They were in deep, _deep_ trouble now.

Because, one, for all the improvements he’d made to the _Waterfall,_ buzz droids weren’t something he’d really prioritized defending against. Partly because there wasn’t all that much he _could_ do without sacrificing too much speed and maneuverability, and partly because they were so damn _rare_ these days. Even Anakin hadn’t come across any in at least three years, and more than half the insurgent cells he’d worked with relied on scavenged Clone Wars materiel.

And two, while it would take the damned things longer to do real damage to a light freighter than to a starfighter, he had a lot fewer tricks to shake them off than he would have.

 _Head for the planet,_ he decided. This redirect, fortunately, was right near one with human-compatible atmosphere. He could get there before they had decompression issues, make an emergency landing, take care of the kriffing _pests,_ and then deal with the real--

“Sir?” Rex’s voice crackled over the intercom, interrupting his thoughts.

 _Right._ “We’ve got company,” he replied. “Shoot back at that fighter if you can, but we’ll be making a hard landing real soon. Brace yourself.”

“Copy that, sir.”

Not that there was much chance Rex actually _would_ blow Specter out of the sky, but it was worth trying.

He shook it off, got his focus back on track. He knew he was diving headlong into the Sith Lord’s trap--that Specter _wanted_ to force him down to the planet and into a face-to-face confrontation--but there wasn’t much else he really _could_ do, not in this ship, not without an outside partner to help clear off the buzz droids before the hull was breached.

 _Besides,_ he reminded himself as he nudged the _Waterfall_ onto the right vector and opened the thrusters wide as he could. _What do we do with traps? Spring them, of course._

He dropped down into the atmosphere before the decompression alarm could go off, then shut it down with a flicker of the Force before it could--the air was potentially still thin enough to trigger it at this altitude, and it would serve no purpose but to distract him. Especially since another alarm was _already_ shrieking at him, which, yes, he was _aware_ that stabilizer was loose and not doing its job anymore. He shut that one down, too, and focused on finding somewhere he could land without getting himself or Rex killed.

The terrain he’d come in over was at least solid, not a swamp or ocean. On the other hand, it was a steep, craggy mountain range--Specter probably wouldn’t have much trouble finding a ledge that could hold his fighter, but the _Waterfall_ needed a little more room.

 _There._ A break in the peaks, as he lost another stabilizer and flicked off _that_ alarm, too. There was a semicircular plateau that looked like it had been _deliberately_ cut out of the side of one of the mountains for reasons of who-kriffing-cared; it was big enough for him to land safely.

...for a given value of “safely,” anyway.

He winced internally as his lower starboard engine started to whine. “I know,” he said. “I know. Just hang on, we’re almost there.”

He cut both it and the lower port engine. He fed more power to the upper engines to control the deceleration and descent, but not _too_ much--he needed to start that now anyway, if he didn’t want to end up as so much paste on the mountainside. He angled the ship into a tight spiral that would end on the inner curve of the plateau, with the true peak of the mountain rising at their backs.

 _Hopefully, I have enough bits and pieces that Artoo and I can cobble together a patch job that will at least get us to the rendezvous,_ he thought grimly, as he eased up his angle just a little bit. _After I deal with Specter, of course._

He hit the plateau with a grinding screech of metal on stone, gritting his teeth against the vibration, and came to a complete stop only a few meters off from where he’d wanted to be, _without_ anything exploding or catching on fire.

_Go me._

As soon as the _Waterfall_ stopped moving, he unstrapped himself and pelted for the boarding ramp. It took him about ten seconds to find the buzz droids--there were only _three_ of the kriffing things, but it didn’t really take much--and even less time to render them three piles of scrap.

He extinguished his lightsaber and made a quick visual inspection while he had the chance. The damage wasn’t as bad as it _could_ have been, but they’d still need to spend some time patching holes before he’d be comfortable taking off again. Only the one engine was in really bad shape, at least--he could compensate, if they couldn’t fix it with what they had--but there were some raw edges and exposed wires a little too close to the fuel tank for comfort. Easy fix, yes, but important, if he didn’t want to die a fiery death.

Although, a _little_ fire might actually have been welcome right then. This planet’s climate--at least up here in the mountains--was bitterly, bitingly cold. Almost, but not quite, cold enough to sear his every breath.

 _Something to watch out for,_ he thought, as he made his way back into the ship to check in with Rex. _Especially if Specter’s species has any kind of advantage in the cold. Also, the ground will probably be icy, at least in a few spots._

When he got back inside, both Rex and Artoo were waiting for him. Rex was leaning against the wall just a little bit, for support.

_Damn it._

Anakin frowned a little. “You okay?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Be sore for a couple days, maybe, but nothing broke.”

“All right,” he said. “I found and got rid of three buzz droids. There shouldn’t be more, but double check. Also, head’s up--it’s not quite sub-zero out there, but it _is_ cold.”

“Good to know,” he said. “What exactly are we dealing with?”

Anakin knew that tone. That was the tone Rex used when he was pretty sure he knew, but really, _really_ wanted to be wrong. And wouldn’t believe it unless confirmed either way.

“Darth Specter,” he said.

Rex swallowed a little, then nodded once. “Right,” he said. “I’m...guessing you want me to stay with the ship, then?”

“Yeah. Do what you can to help Artoo get started patching,” he said. “And--try and get ahold of Obi-Wan. Ahsoka, too. Let ‘em know we’ll be--delayed.”

“Yes, sir,” he said, but frowned. “We haven’t set up a secure line to the Commander yet.”

Which meant calling her might draw exactly the kind of attention he took these roundabout routes to avoid. But now that they’d established contact, he didn’t want to _lose_ it again. Even if it was a risk. Because, as horribly selfish as it was, there were _already_ too damn many people in his life he wasn’t allowed to talk to. And Ahsoka had been fine all these years, so probably-- _probably_ she’d be okay. As long as Rex was careful with what he said, which he always was.

“I know,” he said, and sighed. “Just--try anyway.”

“I will,” Rex said. “How long do I wait before I go after you?”

 _That won’t be necessary,_ Anakin started to say. After all, he had _legitimately_ defeated Dooku, _by himself,_ before murdering him. And whatever Specter really was, he certainly wasn’t Dooku.

But that didn’t mean he should be underestimated.

On the other hand, Anakin _really_ didn’t want Rex in range as an additional target.

Then again...

“I don’t know,” he finally conceded. “It depends on how long it takes me to _find_ him.” Because that was another concern--even if everything _else_ from here on went perfect, the longer he spent looking, the more danger he’d be in from exposure.

Rex nodded. “All right. Take your beacon, then.”

“Yeah.” That was a good compromise--he could activate it if he ran into trouble his Captain could help him with, without putting Rex in unnecessary danger.

He grabbed the beacon, but left everything else save his lightsaber and his cloak behind. “I’ll be back,” he promised, quietly.

Rex saluted him briefly. “Sir,” he replied, just as quiet.

Anakin pulled up his hood and strode down the boarding ramp again, to meet his replacement at last.

 

* * *

 

In the end, it didn’t actually take all that long for him to find the Sith Lord; Specter had probably been tracking his descent, and made sure to land somewhere close by.

After maybe a half hour of carefully picking his way down from the plateau, stopping on narrow ledges along the way to get his bearings, Anakin reached another major cut in the rock.

And, unlike the ones he’d passed along the way, this was _not_ a natural ledge, any more than where he’d left the _Waterfall_ had been. It was too clean, too smooth.

It was a different shape, something like a crescent rather than a semicircle; about two and a half meters across at the widest part; about ten times that in length. Anakin had landed about two meters from one end.

Darth Specter was waiting for him at the other.

He was tall--Anakin’s height, give or take a few centimeters--and not human. Proportions were all wrong, especially with his head. Gotal, maybe, or Devaronian. Something with horns.

“Anakin Skywalker,” he breathed, sliding his cloak off and letting it pool in an inky puddle behind him. He wore a full-face mask underneath; one that covered his entire head, including the actual shape of his horns and any other identifying features.

_...interesting choice._

On the other hand, it left Specter as a near-seamless shadow against the rock. Not a bad look for an assassin.

“And you must be Specter,” he said, shrugging off his own cloak with a lot less grace than Obi-Wan usually managed.

“ _Darth_ Specter,” he corrected, with more than a hint of annoyance.

 _So,_ that _matters to him--having reached that rank, having the power it implies acknowledged._ Something he could play on, maybe. Act dismissive, like he didn’t consider him worth his time. Obi-Wan could’ve done it better--the whole taunting part of a duel was _his_ skill--but Anakin would do what he could. Hopefully, it would be enough.

“My mistake,” he said, with a smile.

And there was that sense of twisted heat leaking through his shields again, and Anakin finally figured it all out--Specter was _jealous._

He wanted Anakin _dead,_ wanted him to _suffer_ in dying, because he wanted to show that _he was better._ To prove that he was good enough. To earn the approval of his superiors.

 _Remind you of anyone?_ he asked himself.

 _Shut up,_ he replied inside his head.

Specter considered him silently for a moment, head tilted to one side. “I’ve been looking forward to this,” he finally said. “For a long time.”

At least taunting him was even likelier to work, given what Anakin now knew.

“Hm. Can’t say I’ve given it much thought myself,” he lied.

Specter _hissed_ at him, and that hot, heavy, jealous rage spiked just a little bit.

 _Not a Gotal, then,_ Anakin said. _They don’t make noises like that._

But the young Sith Lord didn’t _quite_ rise to the bait, like Anakin had hoped; didn’t rush him and start the duel by ceding ground. The way Anakin himself had, the first time he’d fought Specter’s predecessor.

But, no, all he did was pull out a pair of lightsabers and activate them both, settling into a modified Form IV opening stance.

Interesting again--his background was _not_ in this kind of combat; he was holding himself all wrong for that. No, he’d been self-taught at first; he’d learned how to fight bare-handed for survival, and then form and polish and a pair of lightsabers had been added on later.

Well, Anakin had that kind of background, too, though not as much. And he hadn’t spent years training Ahsoka without getting pretty damn good at fighting against jar’kai specialists.

Yeah. He could handle Specter.

“You’ll regret your lack of preparation,” Specter said, and then launched himself across the platform.

Anakin stood his ground, met the flurry of rapid blows with a solid foundation, letting Specter dance around him and returning quick jabs with unstoppable force.

He had to admit, Ataru was a good choice for the Sith Lord. He was _fast,_ like it demanded; striking from the shadows in what seemed like a dozen different direction. If he’d had more time to practice, to really hone his skills, he might have actually _won._

But as it was, he was--not _sloppy,_ exactly, but a little too much of his street fighting background crept in, in all the wrong ways. Because, sure, made him a bit unpredictable, but it also pointed his focus on a tangent from where it should have been; kept him from taking full advantage of his chosen style.

 _Your focus,_ Qui-Gon Jinn had told Anakin once, _determines your reality._ Specter’s not-quite-perfect fighting style certainly showed the truth in that.

And so, when Specter failed to gain the advantage he wanted quickly enough with his lightsabers, he fell back on hand-to-hand. He ducked inside the reach of Anakin’s blade, throwing an elbow at his face.

Anakin gave ground rather than trying to respond in kind, sidestepping and letting Specter come within a hair’s breadth of going over the edge. He followed up quickly and pressed his advantage hard, trying to box him into that corner, but Specter slipped past him, running up the wall and over his head.

 _Not bad,_ Anakin thought, turning and grinning at Specter, wide and slightly feral. Horrible thought--really, _really_ horrible thought--but a part of him was actually starting to _enjoy_ this. Oh, he still sparred with Obi-Wan, every chance they got, but it wasn’t the same as a _real_ fight, with someone who knew what they were doing.

Anakin pushed forward before Specter could finish resetting, making his own attack and forcing the Sith Lord to stay on the defensive.

That didn’t mean he won, not yet--Specter kept moving, like a dancer, always just out of reach; until they were near the opposite end of the platform. Then he ducked again, coming in close again and aiming a solid kick at Anakin’s right knee.

He dodged, of course--he’d seen it coming, and Specter came down a little harder on his landing than he’d probably meant, at an oblique angle to Anakin where neither of them was in a good position to make an effective strike with their blades.

But, as Specter had at least _tried_ to demonstrate, that wasn’t the only way to win a fight.

Seizing the opportunity, Anakin reached out with his free hand to yank Specter’s hood off--the likely change in light quality would distract him, maybe disorient him for a split second. But a split second would be enough. If that happened, he could take control of the duel again and _keep_ it; Ataru’s weakness was that it needed a _quick_ victory or it got too draining. It was only a matter of time before Specter ran out of momentum and left Anakin an opening.

So he reached, and got a handful of fabric, and _pulled,_ and--

He instantly, _deeply_ regretted that choice.

_Are you--proud of me, Master?_

Specter wasn’t a Gotal. Or a Devaronian. Or any other species with true horns.

Specter was _Togruta._

It was all too much. It all added up to too damn much, especially this week--too many pieces that were too similar to _him_ and to someone he loved and for a split second, Anakin’s brain whited out at the edges and he barely even _remembered_ Mortis so why--

_Are you_

                                                                 proud

_of me,_

_Master?_

A split second was enough.

A line of white-hot pain burst across Anakin’s left thigh, and his leg gave out entirely under him. He was too close to the edge of the platform; he lost his balance and pitched over the side.

Specter yelled something and dove after him; he landed on a natural ledge about a half-dozen meters down, which knocked the wind out of him and the impact felt _wrong,_ off-kilter--

On instinct, or muscle memory, he brought his lightsaber to bear again and Specter--

Didn’t correct his angle in time to avoid it; he landed on the blade; impaling himself through the chest with a faint, choking gasp of surprise.

Anakin deactivated his lightsaber, and Specter collapsed on top of him; one of his own hilts disappearing down the mountain, the other slipping from his hand, clattering onto the stone at Anakin’s side as the blade itself disappeared.

 _It wouldn’t have worked,_ he thought numbly. _He wouldn’t have been--he wouldn’t have given you what you wanted. Even if you_ had _killed me. He finds what you want most and he promises it and he lies. And I’m--sorry. I’m sorry, it’s all my fault that he found you, that you’re here, that you ended this way. I’m so, so sorry._

The thirty seconds or so it took for Specter to finally, fully _die_ were some of the longest in Anakin’s life.

And then--and then, what was left of Specter was crushing him; he couldn’t take the body’s weight anymore; he tried to shift, tried to shove it off him, but he couldn’t get the leverage he needed.

Something was wrong. Something was very, _very_ wrong.

He reached down with a shaking hand--he couldn’t _see_ how bad the wound was, but if he could feel it, he could get a sense of--

_Oh._

His knee was, very clearly, not where it was supposed to be anymore. In its place was--nothing.

And that was--that was the last straw. There was a limit to what he could take, and that was...that was it.

He had the presence of mind, just barely, to activate the tracking beacon Rex had insisted he take before he lost consciousness completely.


	35. Part 4, Chapter 7

The buzz droids, fortunately, hadn’t done nearly as much damage as Rex had feared. Artoo had just finished running a full diagnostic and, according to the readout, not only did they have on hand everything they’d need--or, at least, a reasonable substitute--for a patch job that would hold them ‘til a safer port and proper repairs, the three of them could get the work done and be underway in six to eight hours. Give or take.

“You’re sure about this?” he asked. It  _ seemed _ too damn good to be true. But he needed the win; the General probably did, too.

The little droid beeped at him, smugly, which he took for a yes.

“Excellent,” he said. At least  _ that _ part of things was going right.

He tried not to think too much about how things might be going down the mountain. There wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it from here. And if he’d followed, he’d’ve been a liability, in the way--potentially even a hostage, like that time with Asajj Ventress. There were some things, Rex knew, that were just out of his league. And a Sith Lord was one of them.

_ At least if I’m by myself. _

Which was  _ not _ a thought he wanted to have, especially not this week.

He cleared his throat, shaking it off as best he could. “I’ll, uh, I’ll update General Kenobi and Commander Tano, then get started.” The fiddly detail work he’d leave to General Skywalker, of course, but there was plenty he could do in the meantime.

Artoo beeped at him again, then trundled off to start on his own set of repairs, as Rex settled himself at the long-range comm station.

Reaching out to General Kenobi was no trouble at all--they had long since put together a limited number of code phrases for communication of rapid changes to plan like this; delays to making a set meeting were one of the situations they’d covered. Rex added a couple layers of more standard encryption--couldn’t be too careful--and had it sent off within a few seconds.

Simple enough, although it  _ was _ a little disconcerting that General Kenobi hadn’t responded to  _ any _ of the messages Rex and General Skywalker had sent since meeting up with the Commander. True, he had almost certainly just gone dark for his mission, but--

Well, Rex had spent  _ far _ too much time around Jedi to believe in coincidence.

But he couldn’t do anything about  _ that, _ either. And if he was going to function the way General Skywalker needed him to, he had to put it out of his mind; focus on the tasks he actually  _ could _ accomplish.

Like contacting the Commander, though that was considerably more complicated. They hadn’t had time yet to develop a reference system with her, or even read her in on the basics of the one they already had. And he didn’t know what encryptions she used, so he couldn’t rely on that and hope no one was listening and able to decrypt the content while it was still relevant.

For the first message, Rex had settled on the same system the Generals used to identify their rendezvous points--referenced a similar event from their shared past, betting on the Commander remembering what they’d said about Cinna and piecing the rest together.

Safe bet, that; she was wicked smart. The real concern was that she simply wouldn’t  _ remember _ the mission in question.

He was trying to come up with a similar translation for the update when the console vibrated; incoming transmission, long-range.

Commander Tano, at least,  _ was _ in a position to return his message.

And, yeah, it was probably a risk to accept the call, but he’d have an easier time explaining things this way. As long as he was careful, and kept it short, they’d  _ probably _ be fine.

She seemed to have a similar notion; got right down to business as soon as the connection solidified.

“Rex,” she said. “I got your message, and I  _ think _ I’m reading it right? Is everything okay?”

“Not much I can say on an open line, sir,” he hedged apologetically. “Suffice to say, we...ran into a little trouble, had to go to ground. But it looks like we’ll be on our way in eight standard hours or so.”

“Okay,” she said, looking more than a little relieved. “Sorry, I know I probably shouldn’t’ve risked calling, but I felt like I should...I don’t know, check in.”

Which--well, he didn’t  _ want _ to think about the alarm bells that raised, but there was a Sith Lord involved, and Commander Tano had been concerned enough, lightyears away with no context, to risk an open call.

And then--and then Rex’s regular comm began beeping frantically at him.

_ No… _

“Rex?” Commander Tano asked. “Rex, what’s that--what’s wrong?”

Discipline of a lifetime kept it off his face. “General Skywalker just activated his distress beacon.”

And, on the one hand, that meant he was conscious at least long enough to do that. But on the other, if things were bad enough that he wasn’t trying to drag himself back here on his own, then--

Judging by the look on her face, the same thought was probably going through the Commander’s head.

“Where are you?” she asked--demanded, more like.

He didn’t hesitate. “Sending you the coordinates now.”

That was probably an incredibly  _ stupid _ risk; the line wasn’t secure and someone could well be listening in--but, then again, chances were good Darth Specter was being tracked, and if--when--he was missed, they’d have company coming anyway. And with--depending on how bad the General was injured, speeding up their extraction carried a hell of a lot more weight than keeping their presence here quiet. And Commander Tano’s help would get them off this rock that much faster.

Plus, if more trouble  _ did _ find them, Rex would need her help defending against it. Especially since the General--probably couldn’t right now.

“Got it,” she said. “I’ll be there in two hours.”

“Sir,” he acknowledged, then her hologram dissipated as she ended the call.

Artoo had overheard some of that--or maybe just picked up the beacon himself. He’d come back to the cockpit, and crooned worriedly at Rex.

“Stay here,” Rex said. “Keep--keep working on the ship. Whatever happened down there, sooner we get out of here, the better.”

Artoo beeped again, which Rex decided meant “all right.”

Time to go.

The beacon’s signal was still coming through nice and clear, and hadn’t moved. He gathered up the supplies he was likely to need--medkit, climbing gear, extra harness, portable heat source (the General hadn’t been wrong about how cold it was out there)--and headed out, hoping like hell he wasn’t too late.

 

* * *

 

After about a half-hour’s descent, Rex found where the fight had started, on a crescent-shaped cutaway in the cliff. There were a pair of discarded cloaks, one on either end; and a series of gouges in the rock he recognized as coming from lightsabers.

No further sign of either the Sith or the Jedi.

But the beacon was still urging him along; all indicators were that he was close.

He made his way over to the edge of the cutaway and peered down, looking for the best route--

And there they were.

The Sith Lord was sprawled on a natural ledge about half a dozen meters down--Togruta; male, based on the shape and angle of his montrals; dead, based on the charred hole in his back.

Pinned under him was the General.

He wasn’t moving.

At this--at this distance, Rex couldn’t even tell if he was  _ breathing. _

He took a step back, squeezing his eyes shut and beating back the horror; the mental images of the blood-soaked Temple, the dead child in the Council room, his General tumbling backwards out the window.

_ Never again, _ he reminded himself, reaching up with a shaking hand to brush against the fading scar on his head.  _ I am my own man. _

It took--it took a few minutes for the moment to pass and his heartrate to mostly go back to normal.

He took a deep breath and steeled himself before looking down over the edge again.

He processed a little more detail this time--the General’s left leg had been cut off; somewhere above the knee, he thought, but it was hard to tell exactly where, with Darth Specter’s body in the way. Nevermind assessing for other injuries.

Getting down to the ledge, at least, wouldn’t be too big a problem--plenty of solid places to anchor his line, and no serious obstacles to trip him up on the way. But--

_ Not a lot of room to work down there, _ he thought.  _ Not sure how  _ stable  _ that ledge is, either. _ The cutaways were fine, smooth and solid, possibly with additional supports built into the rock. But natural weathering processes weren’t nearly that careful.

He’d make it work, somehow. He  _ had _ to.

He pushed that worry to the back of his mind, made sure his line--and the heater and medkit--were secure, then lowered himself down with care.

The ledge held. So far, so good.

He dragged the corpse off of his Jedi, and put a careful finger on the General’s neck, and--

There was a pulse. Rapid and thready, but  _ there. _ And he could see it now; the slight rise and fall of General Skywalker’s chest.

He was breathing. He was  _ alive. _

It was all Rex could do to keep from shutting down again, this time in giddy relief.

But breathing or not-- _ alive _ or not--the General was still badly injured. Rex had to move if he wanted to  _ keep _ him alive.

“Right. Okay.” He took a deep, shaky breath of his own, and got to work.

First thing first, he got the heater going, then unpacked the medkit. Rex wasn’t technically a medic, of course, but all the clones had received at least basic medical training. In case they got separated, or were otherwise unable to get real help. So, something like pull out bandaging, load it up with as much disinfectant as he could, and wrap it around the stump--that, he could do.

Next, he set up a scanner--the basic one in the kit wouldn’t tell him all that much, of course, but it would at least identify any spinal damage. Which would let Rex know if it was safe to move the general; whether or not he could do it without killing or paralyzing him.

And if he couldn’t?

The ledge was still holding stable. If Rex couldn’t move his General, he’d just do what he could to keep him warm and prevent further damage, and wait for the Commander to join them.  _ She _ could lift General Skywalker back up to the ship safely.

After less than two minutes, the scanner beeped--more good news, sorely needed; no spinal fractures.

“Okay,” Rex said again. He’d done what he could down here--lightsabers cauterized, fortunately, so he didn’t have to worry about any bleeding on top of the rest. And everything else could wait ‘til they were off this damn ledge and back in the shelter the ship provided.

He went back up to the crescent to collect his General’s cloak--added warmth, once he had to shut the heater down, plus a little more padding between the harness and any other bruising the scanner hadn’t shown. 

Then, back down to the ledge, to get the General strapped in securely and the two harnesses hooked together.

After that, it was only a matter of climbing back up the cliff.

“All right,” he muttered to his still-unconscious General. “Might be better for you to stay asleep for a little while longer, sir.” Because, as worrisome as his continued lack of consciousness was--and as heavy and awkward as he was to carry, limp like this--Rex was worried that he’d try to  _ help. _ And that would just end up hurting him worse.

No answer, of course. Rex checked the straps one more time, then started up the cliff.

 

* * *

 

It took a little more than twice as long to get back to the  _ Waterfall _ as it had to work his way down. Of course, considering that going up was  _ always _ harder, to say nothing of the extra weight he was carrying, Rex thought he’d made pretty damn good time.

He hauled the General up onto the semicircular cutaway and paused for a minute to catch his breath.

And, right on cue, General Skywalker stirred a little, coming at least partway awake with a faint moan.

_ Oh, good, _ Rex thought.  _ Finally. I was--if he hadn’t woken up soon... _

“Easy, sir,” he said. “You’ve been pretty badly injured. Try not to move too much.”

“Rex…?” he asked, a little hoarse.

“Right here.” He paused for a second, then added, “Commander Tano’s on her way.” Probably be here any minute now, in fact.

“Good,” he said. “That’s--that’s good.” He drew in a slightly unsteady breath. “S’cold.”

“I know,” Rex said.  _ Time to get moving again. _ “Hang on, it’ll be a little warmer in the ship. Just rest for a minute, I’ll get us there.”

“Right,” he said. “Okay.”

Rex set to work uncoupling the harnesses--good for getting up the cliff face, but put them at an awkward angle for moving across level ground. It took a few minutes; while they were designed to be quick-release, he’d been paranoid about accidentally  _ dropping _ General Skywalker on the way up, so he’d made some on-the-fly improvements.

The General was quiet for a minute, probably sorting through everything that had happened as the post-fainting grogginess faded a little bit. “What…” He cleared his throat, shook his head. “What day’s it? Have I…?”

“Same day,” Rex assured him. “You went down after him a couple hours ago.”

“Okay.” he said. He sounded relieved. “That’s okay, then.” He paused. “‘Soka’s coming.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Real soon.” 

He shook his head. “Now.” He waved vaguely at the sky. “Listen. Engines.”

He paused for a second, tilting his head, and--yeah, there it was. Or, at least, he heard engines. And, as out of it as he still was, if General Skywalker said those belonged to Commander Tano, not one of Specter’s friends, Rex believed him.

He eyed the platform around them, trying to decide if they should stay put, or make for their ship, or maybe drop down to the next natural ledge.  _ Depending on how big her ship is, she should have room to land here without any trouble, _ he decided. They probably shouldn’t try stumbling across to the  _ Waterfall _ until she did, though. Didn’t want to be in her way.

As he was unhooking the last of the straps, the ship came into view through the cloud cover; nondescript, a little battered-looking, and disappointingly small.

_ So much for that, _ he thought, shifting to protect his General from any debris kicked up by the backdraft as she maneuvered into her landing. He hadn’t even really consciously considered the possibility until he’d seen it wouldn’t work, but--if the Commander’s ship had been just a  _ little _ bigger, she could’ve evacuated General Skywalker herself, faster than he and Artoo could get the  _ Waterfall _ functioning again.

The General muttered something Rex just barely caught over the noise; it  _ sounded _ like something less than complimentary about the little ship’s landing gear, or the timing with which she’d deployed it.

_...assuming, of course, we could talk him into it,  _ he thought dryly.  _ If he’s alert enough to critique the Commander’s landing, he’d probably put up a fight about leaving the  _ Waterfall _ behind. _

Amazing, how much that half-overheard and completely unwarranted complaint had improved his mood.

The engines were barely powered down when Commander Tano pushed open a hatch on top and leapt out, darting across the platform to join them.

“Hey, Snips,” the General said.

She took a shaky breath, but smiled, relief painted clear all over her face; when she spoke, her voice was steady. “Busy day?” she asked.

“Could say that,” he said.

“I left you guys--what, less than a day ago?” She shook her head in mostly-mock exasperation. “You couldn’t wait a day before getting into trouble?”

“You know me. I get bored easy.”

“The firefight earlier wasn’t enough?

“What c’n I say?” he said, trying for airy unconcern, but the pain cut through it and ruined the effect. “F’I don’t find trouble, it finds me.”

She hugged him then, very, very carefully. “You look terrible,” she informed him.

He managed a smile at that. “Love you, too, Snips,” he murmured, then shivered.

_ Not good. _

“We should get inside,” Rex said.

“Yeah,” the Commander agreed, sliding under the General’s right arm.

Rex did the same on his other side; with her to help, he was a lot easier to carry.

“It’s okay, Skyguy,” she said. “We’ve got you. You’re gonna be okay.”

“Mm,” he agreed, but he was starting to fade out again. He’d been putting up a front, Rex realized; not wanting his apprentice to worry too much.

The two of them exchanged a glance over his head, and picked up the pace.

Not that she was wrong. Rex knew she wasn’t. He  _ would _ be okay, eventually--there wasn’t much could kill General Skywalker--but ‘eventually’ was still a long way away.

But they were headed that way, at least. Next steps--get him warm, get the ship repaired, get to a medic. As long as they kept moving in the right direction, they could manage the rest as it came.

As long as they _kept_ moving in the right direction, everything would be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things I know very little about: a) mountain climbing; b) medicine. Um. Please forgive any errors.
> 
> I know I don't usually stay in the same thread, so to speak, two chapters in a row, but I felt like it would be a bad idea to leave Anakin hanging out on that cliff for too long, so here we are.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading, and see y'all next week!
> 
> ~shadowsong
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> pun absolutely intended, btw. ba dum tish


	36. Part 4, Chapter 8

They had made six years’ worth of slow, careful progress, of gradually building a network of sympathetic Senators and planetary leaders. The proof of it was  _ there, _ if one knew where to look and made the effort; but sometimes it felt like they weren’t actually accomplishing anything, or gaining any ground.

Bail knew that wasn’t true--comparing where they were now, in terms of reach and allies, to where they were even a year ago proved that. But at the same time, Palpatine was still in power, and nothing in the near future seemed likely to change it. For all the progress they had made, most of their actual  _ accomplishments _ were still mere potential; laying groundwork that wouldn’t pay off for years to come.

Today was supposed to be different. Their plan for today--making contact with the little princess--was supposed to be something that  _ felt _ like a tangible gain, even if it wasn’t any more overt or immediately effective than anything else. But it was supposed to be a quantifiable good, one that he and Padme could hold on to on the (all too frequent) days when it felt like every step forward meant at least another step back.

But things had gone on a tangent that, in hindsight, they probably should have seen coming.

Bail had gotten sidetracked--trapped in a conversation with one of Wilhuff Tarkin’s proteges, then with the Grand Moff himself; and Padme had been similarly busy, with enemies and allies and people they were trying to win over. By the time they’d broken free, Luke had slipped away and it was too late to act as planned.

Still, contact  _ had _ been made, and Princess Lavinia had, from everything Padme had told him, responded well to Luke. But, again--a step forward, a step back; because for as much potential gain as this could give them, there was also a serious potential risk.

And now the question Bail had to answer was, how much of an impact did this unexpected change of plans  _ really _ have? And was it important enough to risk a message to the Jedi? If only to get an assessment for exactly how much risk this posed to the protections woven around Luke, the idea was...tempting.

On the other hand--well, it wasn’t enough for a face-to-face meeting.  _ That _ much, at least, he was certain of. And it could  _ probably  _ wait until next week, when the tension from Empire Day had dissipated. Given that it wasn’t anything his friends could easily act on, that might be better anyway. Besides, Padme would absolutely include this in her next letter. Maybe that would be enough.

Then again, Bail was, technically, the interface between the Jedi and their Senate allies, since Padme was watched too closely and Mon hadn’t  _ been _ there. If there was an official message or update to pass, which this might well be, it should come from him. Especially since, if he chose to use it, he had a more direct way to reach out than Padme did.

The problem was, each time he made contact presented a not-insignificant risk to all involved. And, since he  _ was _ that interface, it was up to him to decide in each situation if the news was worth the risk.

He turned that over in his head for a moment, but still found himself unable to decide. He needed advice, and there was really only one person he could turn to. He checked the time, and ran a few quick mental calculations--it was late in Aldera City, but Breha would still be up, even if Winter was long since asleep. And talking to his family, despite the fact that he couldn’t actually  _ explain _ the problem, usually helped him gain some perspective when he was faced with decisions like this one.

As he’d hoped, Breha answered almost immediately. It looked like she was halfway through getting ready for bed; her hair was down and soft around her face.

He already felt himself relaxing, just seeing her.

“Hi.”

She smiled, and it lit her in a way that he could never describe other than--her smile could light the entire galaxy. “Bail, I’m so glad you called.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t check in earlier,” he said. He  _ tried  _ to call home at least once a day, but sometimes--well, things got hectic here. “But I figured you’d still be awake, and I wanted to hear your voice.”

She nodded. “Winter’s already asleep,” she said. “I just checked on her. She’ll be sorry she missed you.”

“I am, too,” he said. “But--I confirmed everything, and I’ll definitely be coming home sometime next week,” he said.

“Wonderful,” she said. “Winter will be happy to hear it. I am, too. We had the parade today, and she made sure to tell me how disappointed she was that Daddy wasn’t there.”

He laughed a little. “Oh, I have to go to one here tomorrow. It won’t be any fun without her, though.”

“I’ll tell her you said that,” Breha said, still smiling. But then she paused, her expression turning serious. “I...saw some of the released images from the event you attended earlier today. Doesn’t Lord Specter usually attend these things?”

Ah, yes. The  _ other _ critical question; and another thing that had thrown him and Padme off track and left the opening Luke had all too innocently taken.

“He does,” Bail confirmed, uneasy all over again at the thought. He didn’t like not knowing where Specter was; that usually meant a bloodbath in the making. Which was probably why Breha was asking; for all her carefully-guarded plausible deniability, she knew more than enough about Darth Specter to follow news of  _ him _ very closely. Bail had had his staff carefully combing official and unofficial press reports from areas with likely targets ever since he’d realized the Sith Lord had left the planet, either for individual assassinations or a wholesale slaughter. Nothing had come up yet.

Then again, he didn’t exactly expect them to find anything. Not in that direction. Not when there was every indication--or at least every one he knew how to read--that Specter’s trip was unofficial. Spontaneous. Possibly even unauthorized.

_ That, _ he knew, was something that  _ did  _ require a message to the Jedi, and he had in fact had one left at a dead drop when he’d checked a few hours ago to see if the code keys General Skywalker was acquiring this week had been delivered yet.

“Hm,” Breha said. She still looked troubled. “Well, I’m sure you’ll hear of him sooner than I will.”

“Probably,” Bail agreed, and sighed. “The Emperor’s daughter was at the event, though. Perhaps Specter simply didn’t want to be upstaged.” It wasn’t true, and they both  _ knew  _ it wasn’t true, but it would hopefully provide some cover with any eavesdroppers and was a decent segue into what he actually wanted to talk about.

“I saw,” Breha said. “I thought she did very well, considering how young she is.”

“She did,” he agreed. Better than Winter or even Luke would have handled an event like that at three years old, and both his daughter and Padme’s son were  _ remarkably  _ patient, well-behaved children.

When they wanted to be, anyway.

“Did you get a chance to speak with her?” Breha asked.

He shook his head. “No, I didn’t. Luke Naberrie managed to slip off and meet her, though. He seems to have decided to be her friend.”

Comprehension shone in his wife’s eyes, and she nodded once. She knew  _ exactly _ who Luke was, and exactly why this was dangerous-- _ that _ part, she’d known right from the start. “He does have a habit of doing that,” she said carefully. She glanced off to one side, then leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Is this a good thing or a bad thing?”

And, if she was being that direct, it meant she was certain their call was untapped, clear of any danger other than someone physically listening in on one end or the other.

“I don’t know,” Bail admitted. Because, on the one hand, this put a  _ lot _ more focus on Luke than Padme wanted, and there was the outside chance that that attention could lead their enemies to their other secrets--Polis Massa, Dagobah, Leia…

On the other hand, Luke approaching the princess came across as--much less suspicious. As something natural, even. In part because it was, of course; and in part because, however else they might have tried to explain it, Bail and Padme were professional politicians. Any attempts on their part to befriend the Emperor’s daughter would be assumed to have an ulterior motive.

Which, as much as he hated to admit it, wasn’t...entirely wrong. Yes, their primary goal was to protect her, to offer her an alternative,  _ positive _ influence in her life. A way out, even, if she ever chose to take it. To  _ save _ her, one way or another, from her father.

But Bail would be lying if he claimed that the possibility of cultivating a source with that level of...proximity, anyway, if not true access or influence, hadn’t at least  _ occurred _ to them.

Not that they had been planning on anything overt, of course--it wasn’t fair to the child, and it was too dangerous for everyone involved. But once a relationship was there, then maybe…

Well. It was a moot point, anyway. Luke had made the approach, which would  _ keep _ things altruistic. Or as altruistic as anything on Imperial Center ever was.

Of course, the risks with Luke were different, and in most ways  _ greater, _ which brought him back to the central question.

“I’m  _ leaning _ towards good,” he finally said. “But--I really don’t know, Breha.”

She nodded. “So we might need a contingency plan.” One to extract and hide Luke, and probably Padme, and--who knew who else might get caught up in that mess.

“Yes.” She probably had some portion of one put together already--plausible deniability or not, Breha knew enough to plan ahead.

“All right,” she said. “Keep me posted on this, please?”

“I will,” he promised. So her advice boiled down to watch and wait, and avoid overreacting.

Which was probably the best thing he  _ could _ do. Treating this like something more than a warm-hearted, friendly little boy reaching out to another lonely child would only bring people to wonder  _ why. _

“Thank you,” she said, then leaned back again, controlling her expression and lightening her tone. “I should probably let you go,” she said, apologetically. “You have a parade to go to all by yourself tomorrow.”

“And I’m sure you have an early day,” he agreed. “I’ll call again tomorrow. Earlier, so I can say hello to Winter, too.”

“Good,” she said, and smiled. “And we’ll see you next week?”

“Yes,” he said. “I’ll send the specific schedule once I finish ironing it out.”

She nodded. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he said. “Good night.”

“Good night.” She blew him a kiss, then leaned forward, shutting off her comm and leaving his office in shadow.

He sighed, and rubbed at his temples. He would hold off on contacting the Jedi about the potential situation with Luke and the princess, at least until next week, or if something else changed. And maybe it would all turn out all right. They couldn’t  _ ask _ for a better positive influence in her life than Luke Naberrie, after all. And he and Padme would still be there, if a step removed, if she needed more protection than Luke could give her.

As for the situation with Specter…

There wasn’t much of anything he could do, other than what he was doing already. Leave messages where he could, and look for a trail, and do his best to help the survivors clean up afterwards.

It had been--another day of progress that didn’t really feel like progress. Two steps forward, maybe, but still at least a step back.

But he still believed--he  _ had _ to believe--that, in the end, the steps forward would outnumber the steps back. In the end, the progress would add up to something real.

Even if it took another six years to see it.

 

* * *

So. Specter was dead.

This was not precisely a surprise for Darth Sidious--his late apprentice was obedient and eager to please. Very little would have made him ignore his orders, abandon his post, and rush off without permission. The ripple through the Force when he actually expired was mere confirmation for what he had expected from the moment Specter had left the planet.

Well, the boy had served him adequately for a time. But Sidious was far better prepared for this eventuality than he had been the last time he’d found himself without an apprentice. He had a list of acceptable candidates at the ready. And his selection--an adult this time; seasoned and strengthened and embittered by over a decade of hard labor in the mines--was, by now, already on his way to a private location, where Sidious could tame him at his leisure.

Irritating, to have to spend a year or two without an active enforcer in the field, but not the near-disaster that Skywalker slipping through his fingers six years ago had presented.

And his daughter’s first public appearance had gone almost exactly to plan. Senator Amidala’s brat approaching her had been an unexpected bonus--providing him with a new conduit of information on the activities of dissidents in the Senate. Largely passive, at least until she was a little older, but a conduit nonetheless. A promising start, which augured the long-term success of that particular experiment.

Overall, it had hardly been an unproductive week. Yes, Specter’s death was an inconvenience, but apprentices could be replaced. In the end, all he had really lost was time.


	37. Part 4, Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a note, this chapter references a significant Noodle Incident from the _Thrawn_ novel, the timing/specifics of which I made up, and therefore may be contradicted by later canon.
> 
> Also, as before, tactical/strategic errors are mine, not our narrator's.
> 
> ~shadowsong

Obi-Wan, Moonshot, and Reckoning had been pinned down in the magazine for nearly half of a standard hour, and nothing had exploded. Which, of course, meant every second made that eventuality that much likelier, but they had still had that time to regroup and try to figure out their next move.

Moonshot had had far more luck with her appointed task than Obi-Wan had with--not at all surprisingly, there was a medkit available, even easily accessible, securely bolted to the west wall of the storeroom. It wasn’t particularly extensive at its best, and needed a few things restocked on top of that, but it was sufficient to tend to Reckoning’s injury, at least in the short term.

Finding an _exit,_ unfortunately, was not nearly so simple.

Cutting through the back wall and then scaling the mountain behind the base was an option, but Reckoning would never make it. Besides, it would be a long, roundabout route to rendezvous with the rest of the cell, which increased the chances for getting recaptured.

Obi-Wan had checked the ventilation shafts as well, but they were too narrow for either him or Moonshot. Reckoning _might_ manage, though; he held onto the thought in case splitting up proved the best option. He’d prefer not sending Reckoning off on his own, but if he had to, he would do it.

There was also, of course, the task of removing some of the ammunition if they could. Which _had_ been their mission to start with; the entire reason they were trapped here now. The potential firepower would be a great asset to this cell or any others they could smuggle it to, and leaving it in Imperial hands, after putting this much effort into removing it in the first place-- _especially_ this week--didn’t particularly appeal to Obi-Wan. Unfortunately, neither the cliff route nor the ventilation shafts were a good way to transport explosives. It was a far lesser priority then making sure the three of them got away as intact as possible, to be sure, but not something he was willing to abandon entirely until he had to.

_Time,_ however, was a real concern--more so even than the risk of an errant spark setting off the half-assembled ammunition all around him. The Imperial forces boxing them in had a much better chance of entering the room safely than he and his companions did of exiting it.

So, he moved on to other options. He’d appropriated Moonshot’s datapad to check the viability of cutting _down--_ a lateral escape through the walls would get them caught very quickly, he was absolutely certain--and it was looking more and more like the floor might be their best option. Reckoning could manage it, with their help, which meant they could go together. There was even an exit from the base proper within striking distance, though there was quite a bit of open ground between that and the woods surrounding them.

_One problem at a time._

Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being _herded_ in that direction. And while the best thing to do with a trap was, of course, to spring it on one’s own terms, their current circumstances made such an action seem...less than prudent.

More so than usual, even.

But it remained the best of several bad options. Unless Moonshot, who had been working on slicing into enemy communications since she’d finished tending to Reckoning, found actual evidence otherwise in the next few minutes, Obi-Wan would likely advise going through the floor.

That decided, he looked up, setting the datapad aside. Moonshot had apparently, while his attention had been occupied elsewhere, half-disassembled a wall comm unit which had, apparently, allowed her to successfully tap in. _Excellent. About time something went our way._

“Anything?” he asked her quietly.

“Not really,” she said, listening intently. “Seems like the boys outside are still waiting on orders. It _was_ the Navy commander who figured out we had two teams, though. Got that much.”

“Right.” Which meant that said Commander, and not the one actually in charge of the base, was the one to be wary of. Particularly when he left the planet itself.

_Getting ahead of ourselves again,_ he thought. _Focus._

Of course, even apart from that, it _was_ useful information. The Navy commander sweeping in like that and redirecting ground forces meant a decent chance of chain of command confusion. Possibly even an outright conflict between him and the base Commandant, regarding overstepped boundaries and overreached authority. Assuming Obi-Wan ended up in a position to manipulate that tension, he certainly could gain quite a bit of traction there.

“Did they mention his name at all?” he asked. Every detail helped, and if this was someone he knew, who’d been reassigned to a ship he didn’t, it would make planning their exit significantly less difficult.

“Thrawn,” she said. “That mean anything to you?”

“No,” he said, a little disappointed. Not anyone he knew, either directly or by reputation, unfortunately.

Although on further thought, the name _was_ vaguely familiar. He’d heard it at least once before, but--

Ah. Right. That mess Anakin had gotten into at the edge of the Unknown Regions, very early in the Clone War. Before Ahsoka had joined them, even; no more than a couple of weeks after Anakin had been Knighted. Obi-Wan couldn’t recall any further details off hand, so it wasn’t much help in the moment. Other than the knowledge that Thrawn was from outside the territory either the Republic or the Empire had ever tried to claim, and thus had a very different context and perspective, making him somewhat harder to predict. However, Obi-Wan had a feeling that this would _not_ be the last time he encountered this particular commander, so he would be sure to ask Anakin about it when they--

Abruptly, a bright--if distant--shock of raw pain splashed across the Force.

_Anakin!_

All thoughts of Commander Thrawn--or even their escape--flew out of his mind. Because Anakin was in grave, immediate danger; Anakin was _hurt,_ and he--

“Ben?”

He couldn’t do a damned thing about it.

The realization was like a second blow, almost worse than the initial shock had been. Anakin was far away, and Obi-Wan was _trapped,_ with Moonshot and Reckoning depending on him to hold himself together and find them a way out.

He clenched his hands to still their shaking, took a breath, and tried-- _tried_ \--to regain some sense of internal equilibrium, and lock his current--reaction down.

_There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony._

He closed his eyes; instantly regretted it as his memory filled the space behind them with the _Tantive’s_ medbay and Anakin’s ragged breathing.

_That was six years ago,_ he told himself. _Six_ years _ago. Not here and now. And Anakin isn’t--this time he’s not--things are_ not _that bleak._

The truth of that thought sang through the Force around him. It wasn’t--it wasn’t much, but it was enough to banish those memories back where they belonged.

For the moment.

_There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos there is harmony._

“Ben, are you okay?” Reckoning asked, his voice at last penetrating as Obi-Wan regained a modicum of his self-control.

He opened his eyes. “Yes.” _No._

The others exchanged a look.

“What...what happened?” Moonshot asked, rather than pushing the point.

“It was...far away,” he evaded. “It will not affect our situation here.” _So long as I manage to keep it from affecting_ me _too strongly, at least._

As he had six years ago, he set a tendril of his thoughts to passively monitor his bond with Anakin, just in case, and told himself sternly that that was enough.

And then--

_Keep your concentration here and now, where it belongs._ Just as Qui-Gon used to tell him. Frequently.

“We should get on,” he added, passing Moonshot back the datapad with hands that were once again completely steady.

Even if his mind and heart were--well, in progress.

“All right,” she said. She didn’t sound entirely convinced, but she didn’t argue, either. She accepted his assurances; she _trusted_ him--they both did--either as an individual or a Jedi. It didn’t particularly matter. It was certainly motivating; all the more reason to stay focused.

“Okay,” Reckoning agreed softly. “So...which way, then?”

Sideways was still out, down was still probably a trap, up was still a steep, exposed climb…

_Split up,_ he decided. Two of them to go down and out with as much of the ammunition as they could; one to draw the defenders away and clear a path. Or--

He considered Reckoning for a moment. The brief rest and moderate painkiller had done the young man a great deal of good. And, especially with an unknown like this Commander Thrawn involved, the more confusion and misdirection Obi-Wan could apply to the situation, the better.

“Do you think you can make it through the vents?” he asked.

Reckoning blinked, then eyed the hole Obi-Wan had already cut in there, considering. “Probably? I’ll need a boost up there, but once I am--yeah, I think so.”

“What are you thinking?” Moonshot asked.

“We split up,” he said. He pulled out one of the timed charges he’d borrowed from the stockpile Cleaver had bought from Hondo, and tossed it to Reckoning. “What appears to be the quickest, safest route out is for me to cut through the floor, but there’s a very good chance that it’s a trap. Reckoning, I want you to take this charge and some of the ammunition, get a reasonable distance away, then set it off. I’ll do the same, going up the mountain. The will hopefully draw at least some portion of the troops off, leaving Moonshot a reasonably clear exit route, with as much of the remaining stockpile as she can safely handle.”

Moonshot nodded. “And even if I can’t bring all that much, we’ll at least have kept the Empire from using a good chunk of it, yeah?”

“Precisely,” Obi-Wan said.

“Got it,” Reckoning said. “Where do we meet, after?”

“Third backup rendezvous,” Moonshot answered. “Cleaver and the others will have steered clear of that one, no matter what else happened out there.”

“Don’t wait more than a half-hour,” Obi-Wan cautioned. “I’m sure you have protocols in place if we have to scatter. _Use_ them. If I don’t meet you in time, wait for me to reach out before attempting to contact me again. Tell Cleaver, too.”

“We will,” she said. “You know where to find us?”

“Yes,” he said. He made a point to always, _always_ study the ‘what to do when everything explodes the wrong way’ contingency when he started a mission. He had learned _that_ years ago. The first thing he’d memorized, when they’d shown him the map of the complex, was the series of rally points.

“All right,” she said.

“We should probably move, then,” Reckoning said, pulling himself up with the aid of a nearby shelf and balancing carefully, almost all of his weight in his good leg. “Before the Imps bust in and ruin Ben’s plan.”

Moonshot nodded. “Good luck,” she said, clasping his hand briefly.

“You, too,” he said. “See you on the other side.”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes again--this time, miraculously, avoiding the onslaught of nightmarish memories--and lifted Reckoning up until the young man caught the edges of the vent and pulled himself in.

He waited another moment, then cut a hole in the floor for Moonshot, keeping the piece in place until he could lift it out and set it aside, then closed his eyes and found the exact right place to cut his own doorway.

A breath of chill air swept over his hair--odd; it was the wrong season, and they weren’t at nearly a high enough altitude for that to seriously impact the temperature.

He shook it off, and turned back to Moonshot. “Wait at least thirty seconds after you’ve heard an explosion before you move,” he advised her softly. “But you’ll probably be all right without waiting for the second.”

She nodded. “Are you sure you’re okay, Ben?”

Anakin was still alive; the danger hadn’t passed, but he _was_ still alive. So, “Yes,” he said, and it was only an exaggeration, not a lie.

She studied him for a moment, then nodded. “All right. Good luck to you, too.”

He bowed slightly in acknowledgement. “May the Force be with you,” he said, then took a breath, stepped out onto the mountainside, and began to climb.


	38. Part 4, Chapter 10

Between the two of them, even with Anakin fading in and out, Ahsoka and Rex were able to get him back onto the ship and without hurting him further. Artoo was hovering in the hold, waiting for them; he crooned worriedly and rolled closer when he saw them coming in. Ahsoka managed to flash a smile at him. “It’s okay, buddy,” she said. “We’ve got him.”

Artoo beeped and rocked back and forth a little, nudging her a little as she passed with what she’d learned was his version of affection. She would have patted him in response, just like she used to, but she had her hands full helping carrying Anakin.

Ahsoka was pretty sure Artoo understood. She’d missed him, too; she hadn’t realized quite how much until she saw him again.

“We’ll catch up later, okay?” she said.

He beeped and rolled back again, making sure he was well out of their way.

She and Rex maneuvered past him and got Anakin into his closet-sized personal space; there was a door for privacy, a few scattered piles of machine parts on the ground, a pair of cabinets taking over one wall, and a metal bunk on the one opposite, designed to fold up if he needed more floor space for whatever. He did rouse a little when they set him down, but was still have trouble focusing, through the pain and shock and cold.

The fact that he was still cold, actually, was what worried Ahsoka the most. Oh, he was definitely in _bad shape,_ no mistake, but--well, Maridun had been...the damage Anakin had taken there was maybe not quite as awful, long-term--since at least it hadn’t been _permanent._ But, on the other hand, Anakin’s injuries back then had been a lot more likely to be _immediately_ fatal. So this wasn’t the worst she’d seen. And he’d come out of Maridun just fine. There wasn’t much that could take her Master down.

Except it hadn’t been as cold, when she and Master Secura had had to leave him behind and go for help, and things like that made a difference. Ahsoka wasn’t sure exactly how long Anakin been lying unconscious out there before Rex found him, while the wind and the freezing rock of the mountain leached away his body heat, other than that it was _too_ long.

“Blankets?” she asked Rex quietly, once they had Anakin settled on the bunk as best they could.

“Right hand cabinet,” he said, before disappearing back through the door again.

She felt Anakin’s eyes tracking her as she carefully stepped over a half-finished--she had no idea _what_ that was supposed to be, actually. Which was very, very reassuring; a little hint that even though _everything_ had changed, maybe some things hadn’t.

 _Just like he used to do back on the_ Twilight, she thought, with fond memories of almost tripping over him when he’d fallen asleep working on something. And slightly less fond memories of _actually_ tripping a couple times, when he’d gotten distracted or called away suddenly and left his project behind. _Remember where that is, for when you’re walking around at 04h30 and haven’t had any caf yet._

The cabinet opened easily, and, just like she’d figured, there was a probably excessive pile of extra blankets inside. She grabbed as many as she could easily hold, and turned back to find that Anakin had managed to push himself partway up, propped up on one elbow.

“Lie back down,” she said softly, piling the extra blankets on top of him, careful to avoid jostling the stump as much as she possibly could. “Stay here for a while, try to get warm, okay?”

“Mm,” he said, and sank back. He frowned a little. “...Rex was here a minute ago, right? Or…?”

“Yeah,” she said.

“Sorry. I wasn’t...wasn’t sure how long I was...” He shook his head, shivered again and curled tighter under the blankets.

“It’s okay,” she said.

And, speaking of; Rex came back, with a canteen and a capsule that Ahsoka figured was probably a heavy-duty painblocker. _Good._ She was already picking up on Anakin’s pain, and if the cold was numbing him at all, it would only get worse as he warmed up. Better to take care of it before that happened.

She stepped aside to let Rex in--there wasn’t a lot of space in here, especially not right near the bunk.

“Here,” him said, holding the canteen and capsule out for Anakin to take.

He blinked at Rex for a few seconds, processing, then frowned. “Ship’s still damaged.” He took a breath and started to push himself up again. “I should--”

“Rex and Artoo and I can handle it,” Ahsoka said.

Rex nodded, and put a hand on Anakin’s shoulder. “We’ll manage, sir. Take it, please. Just rest for a bit.”

He hesitated for another moment, then sighed and nodded, accepting the pill and then dropping back again. After that, it only took a few minutes for him to start drifting; and not much longer for him to fade out completely.

Only sleeping, though. Which was for the best--unless Rex was hiding something truly miraculous, which he probably would’ve brought out instead of the painblocker if he did, all they could really do for Anakin here was get him warm and keep him from hurting himself even more until they could get him to an actual doctor. Above and beyond the fact that resting was just a generally good idea when injured, getting Anakin to sleep for a while would go a long way to help with those two goals. And, sure, the drug was probably a big part of how they’d made that happen, but it was still _not the same_ as him actually blacking out again. Or any of the other dozens of nightmare scenarios she’d tried not to think about on her way here.

Although--given the crisp, clean edges to Anakin’s wound, and given the oily, slightly nauseating hum that still lingered in the Force, in the _air,_ dancing across her montrals…

“What happened?” she asked Rex. She already knew, but--hey, maybe she was wrong. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d misinterpreted something that had seemed so _obvious_ at first.

Probably not, but it was a nice thought, anyway.

“We were ambushed,” he said, grimly. “The General--when he can, he backtracks, loops around on his path, to confuse anyone pursuing him. This was supposed to be our first change on the way to Cinna and--we were ambushed. By Darth Specter.”

Yeah.

Ahsoka had heard that name, once or twice--the _Emperor’s_ new assassin, someone like Ventress only less chatty; more like a thief in the night.

“Where is he now?” she asked. Anakin was still alive and uncaptured, despite how bad he’d been hurt, and Rex had seemingly been able to extract him without any problems, and that hum of darkness was faint and fading, not an active threat. Which _probably_ meant Specter had come off even worse in the duel, but she didn’t want to assume.

“Dead,” Rex assured her. “Saw the body myself.”

She blew out a relieved sigh. _Well, that’s one less problem to solve._ Which was, probably, a really awful way to think about it; because Specter _was_ like Ventress, sort of, and Ventress had turned out okay in the end. ...sort of. She’d stopped being outright _evil,_ anyway. And Ahsoka would never forget the way Ventress had helped her when she’d desperately needed it. If Ventress hadn’t gotten her second chance, Ashoka might not be here right now.

But, on the other hand, just how often did that kind of change happen? And what kind of pressure had to be applied to _make_ it happen? Maybe everyone--or, everyone except the Emperor, at least-- _deserved_ a second chance, but at some point, you had to act on the situation at hand, and not hold back in hopes of a better ending. And the situation at hand was pretty damn clear: Specter was a Sith Lord, who had spent the last four years murdering his way across the galaxy on the Emperor’s orders. And he’d damn near killed her Master _right_ after she’d found him alive again.

So, all things considered, she felt perfectly justified in honing in on that victory, on that silver lining. Even if it wasn’t fair. Even if it, maybe, wasn’t _right._

“What about the ship?” she asked, setting that aside and moving on to the problem they _did_ still have to solve. “I didn’t get a good look while we were outside.” She wasn’t _quite_ as good as Anakin, but he’d taught her pretty damn well, and she’d been on her own for six years. As long as there were parts, or a reasonable substitute, she could get the ship flying again. Eventually.

The problem was, especially with Anakin badly hurt and semi-sedated, “eventually” could be a really, _really_ long time.

“Not as bad as it could be, especially since Specter had kriffing buzz droids to throw at us.”

She hissed. Oh, she _remembered_ buzz droids. “Great,” she muttered. That meant hours of work ahead of them. If they were _lucky,_ the pests hadn’t ripped anything vital out and thrown it away, and it was just patchwork. But still...

“It’s all on here.” He tossed her a datapad, with Artoo’s diagnostic readout called up.

She studied it for a moment, and felt her shoulders unknotting. _Oh, good._ There must not have been many of the damn things, and Anakin must have landed and cleared them off _fast._ It would still take a few hours to clean up after them, but--

_Silver lining again._

“Okay,” she said. “Let’s get started.”

Rex nodded, and smiled briefly--weary, but genuine. “Sir,” he acknowledged.

It had been _years_ since she was a Commander of any kind, but it still sounded warm and _right._ Like slipping into a pair of old, comfortable boots, worn so often that they’d molded to the shape of her feet. Everything _fit._ She had Anakin and Rex _back_ again, and it finally felt _real._

It felt like she’d come home.

She had missed them all _so much._

Ahsoka grinned back, and went looking for the hidden compartment where Anakin would have hidden his spare tools.

 

* * *

 

Of course, that brief burst of optimism was maybe a _little_ premature. Because Ahsoka had been right; it _had_ taken hours to get the _Waterfall_ even vaguely ready for flight. She and Artoo and Rex worked steadily; other than taking it in turns to check in on Anakin every so often. He was in and out--mostly out--and feverish by the fourth hour.

(Rex had been the one to check on him that time; he’d come back grim and hard-eyed. “Any way we can speed this up?” he’d asked. She’d had some ideas. A handful of them had worked.)

And maybe they should’ve been monitoring him continuously, but then they’d’ve had one less pair of hands to work on the repairs, and it would have taken that much longer to get him some actual help. It was the better of two bad choices. But now, six hours on, the ship was finally patched enough that it would hold up for a quick trip, at least.

Of course, there was still a pretty damn big problem with _that._

“Where do we take him?” she asked. They’d avoided that question, in part because they’d needed to focus on the task at hand, and take things one step at a time. But also because Anakin was--well, the only word she could think of was _notorious._ The fact was, there probably weren’t a lot of safe ports of call for him these days. Especially when he was hurt.

Although, on second thought, she _did_ know a place they might be able to go--a doctor with a small clinic who was willing to look the other way and not ask questions about patients who were clearly Not Friends of the Empire. But even with that--and the fact that he’d told her he owed her a favor after the mess she’d helped him out of two years before--this would be asking a lot of her contact, and there were a _lot_ of other points of exposure that put them all at risk. To say nothing of any other patients that happened to be there, who would be right in the crossfire if Anakin was seen and recognized.

Or who might sell him out themselves.

“I don’t know,” Rex admitted. “We’ve got a safehouse not too far from here. We set it up a couple years ago--it’s got a pretty good cache of supplies, at least, and access to a med droid that works okay. Plan was, if it’s something too much for us to handle on our own, either here or at the farm, we go there. But…” He sighed.

But that might not be enough. Especially if they hadn’t checked on the cache in a while. It might have been raided, the supplies might have gotten damaged some other way…

So probably Ahsoka’s contact was the best play, after all. Despite the risks involved. “I might know a guy,” she said. “Not sure he has the equipment to make and fit a prosthetic, but…”

“It’s better than improvising at the safehouse,” Rex said. “At least if your contact’s doing the improvising, it’ll be someone who knows what the hell they’re doing. You sure it’ll be safe?”

“Yeah,” she said, then corrected herself. “Well, I mean, _he’s_ safe, but I can’t guarantee that you won’t be seen or recognized by someone else there. I wasn’t, but...”

Rex sighed again. “Yeah, but that’s a risk we’re probably gonna have to take, wherever we end up going.”

True. It still worried her, though. “Maybe Obi-Wan will have some ideas?” she suggested.

“Maybe,” he said. There was a level of doubt in his voice, though, which immediately set off alarm bells.

“...what?”

Rex ran a hand over his head. “General Kenobi’s been...out of contact for a while now. Raiding an Imperial ammunition storehouse, so he’s _probably_ just gone quiet, but…he hasn’t responded to my messages. Or to the one General Skywalker sent right after we all split up, setting the meeting at Cinna.”

The timing was _not_ good. “Kriff. Is that normal?” Because it didn’t _feel_ right, but she’d been…

It had been _years_ since she’d seen Obi-Wan. And everything had changed, so maybe she was missing something, some kind of context, that made that somehow _not_ a sign that Something Was Very Wrong.

Or _less_ of a sign, at least.

“It’s...well, it _has_ happened before,” Rex said, uncertainly. “Just usually not this long without prearrangement, and with everything else going on…” He ran a hand over his head again. “I don’t know. I don’t like it. But the three of us agreed to wait twenty-four hours before anyone tried to do something stupid.”

She frowned. So, _maybe_ it was just the worst timing in the history of ever. But Ahsoka didn’t really believe in coincidence, and Rex didn’t seem to think it was _just_ anything, either. And she trusted Rex’s instincts. “Well, _I_ didn’t promise anything like that,” she pointed out. “I can go see what’s going on, after I’ve called in my favor at the clinic.”

He brightened a little at that. “You could,” he agreed.

She thought fast. _Good thing we didn’t have to cannibalize my ship for parts,_ she thought. Probably the best plan would be for them to take both ships and meet at the clinic so she could talk them through the door. That way, Anakin and Rex wouldn’t be stranded when she left to bail Obi-Wan out of whatever trouble he’d stumbled into. Just in case something went wrong, or they were seen, and they had to make a quick exit of their own.

She ran that by Rex, who nodded. “Right,” he confirmed. “Sounds like that’s the best option we’ve got. I wanna have Artoo run one more diagnostic before we go, just in case.”

“Good call,” she agreed. “I’ll get the coordinates for you while you do that.” And then they could be on their way, and then she would get Obi-Wan, and this whole messed up day would be behind them soon.

It had started so _well,_ too--a successful mission, finding Anakin alive, finding out Obi-Wan was alive, too, finding Rex alive and _safe,_ in all possible senses of the word…

Well. If she couldn’t bring them back to this morning, they had taken control of the situation; they had a plan now to make things better from where they were, as much as they possibly could.

Silver lining, again. She’d take what she could get.

 

* * *

 

Doctor Vils Naar did not consider himself any kind of revolutionary. What he was, first and foremost, was a _doctor,_ and he took that very seriously, indeed. No one who came to his door was ever turned away, and no one who came to his door was ever turned over to their enemies. Whether they were a soldier, a freedom fighter, or something else entirely.

Of course, he didn’t precisely _advertise_ this fact. While most of the anti-government types at least grudgingly accepted it (most, but not all; he’d once been held at gunpoint and informed that this policy made him an accomplice to any number of horrific abuses of power), Imperial officials tended to take an exceedingly dim view of such things.

Still, his reputation for competence, professionalism, and an ironclad adherence to the ethics of confidentiality had spread by word of mouth. And every so often, he had an outlaw turn up in need of care.

Or, sometimes, for less worthy reasons.

That had been the case when he’d first met the Togruta ex-Jedi (she hadn’t given her name and he hadn’t asked; safer for them both) two years ago. Medicine was nearly as valuable on the black market as purely recreational drugs, and a local small-time crime syndicate looking to expand had decided his clinic would be a good source of startup cash for their new enterprise. After all, he frequently harbored fugitives and traitors. It stood to reason he wouldn’t risk going to the authorities.

And maybe they were right about that--Vils certainly would have spent quite a while weighing the repercussions either way--but they clearly hadn’t been prepared for him to have _other_ assistance available to him.

The ex-Jedi had come to him to get a broken wrist set, and he had just finished doing so when the thieves had arrived. She had calmly shoved Vils under cover and handled the threat, without any further damage to herself, or to his supplies, or the one other patient in the clinic at the time--a local teenager, not a soldier or freedom fighter, and luckily sedated for unrelated reasons.

So, he owed the young lady quite a bit--whatever he might have decided to do about the theft in the long run, if she had not intervened and saved him, his clinic would have had to shut down for a few weeks, at least, while he resupplied.

Of course, he hadn’t been sure she would ever come back or try to claim that debt; that she would be near enough and have need enough to do so. And, while he certainly hadn’t _forgotten,_ the matter had slipped to the back of his mind. There were other patients, other problems, other crises that required more attention.

So, when a soft, vaguely familiar voice called his name from the shadows, just as he was locking up from the night, he was more than a little surprised.

“Dr. Naar,” she repeated. “We need your help.”

 _We?_ he wondered, with a slight sense of foreboding.

But he recovered quickly. “Of course,” he said, and unlocked the door again. After all, with or without involving his debt, no one was turned away.

The ex-Jedi and her companions stepped into the light; she and an adult Human man were, between them, supporting the patient; another Human, semiconscious, with his left leg amputated above the knee.

He stood aside to let them pass, catching a better look at the patient as they did, and--

_Oh._

No one who was cognizant enough to watch the news during the War could have failed to recognize this man. Who had once been the greatest hero the galaxy had ever known, but now…

For a brief, frozen moment, Dr. Naar hesitated.

It wasn’t that Vils hadn’t admired him--didn’t _still_ admire him, for the bits and pieces of real information that filtered through the propaganda. And it certainly wasn’t that he didn’t _question_ that propaganda, at least in the privacy of his own mind.

But the _risk_ involved, to him and to the work he did--if he was caught with _this_ man in his clinic, harboring _this_ fugitive…

“Please,” she said, blue eyes full of worry and a hint of desperation meeting his. _“Please.”_

The moment passed, and acid shame filled the space where raw terror had been.

 _No one gets turned away,_ he reminded himself. _And no one gets turned over. What the hell kind of doctor would you be if you let that change?_

He took a deep breath, and nodded. “Put him on the table,” he instructed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Because Doctor Vils Naar wasn’t a stupid man. He knew the Empire lied about a great many things. And, sure, the Republic’s propaganda had probably stretched the truth as well, but to someone who knew how to read between the lines, that version was probably closer to reality than the new one. He would bet good money on that fact, at least where a man like Anakin Skywalker was concerned.

Besides, he had an ethical obligation here. He had a rule. _No one_ got turned away.

...all right, so maybe he was a _little_ bit of a revolutionary after all.


	39. Part 4, Chapter 11

Obi-Wan had long since missed his rendezvous with Moonshot and Reckoning.

Not that he’d particularly expected otherwise. The upper route was the longest, and the most exposed. And he was--distracted. Still.

(Anakin remained a faint pulse in the back of his mind; alive but not _safe_ and in pain.)

At least he’d managed to draw enemy fire away from the others. He hadn’t seen or sensed much commotion from down in the valley, even along Moonshot’s likely route. Chances were relatively good that at least _one_ of them had made it out all right.

As for himself…

Well, he was still alive; still intact. He’d thus far managed to stay ahead of the ground troops deployed after him, and the air support he’d been worried about hadn’t been nearly as aggressive as it could have been. Either because someone in charge wanted him caught alive, or they were concerned about their troops getting caught in the crossfire, or there was some compound in these rocks that made a general strafing run unwise, or some other threat had jumped into the system and the fighters were needed elsewhere, or the fighters were spread out to help hunt down the rest of the team as well and only so many could be spared for him…

That last, he thought, was the likeliest explanation, though any of the others could have played a role as well. Especially if Cleaver and the others had done any significant damage during the earlier skirmish. He _had_ seen at least one shoulder-mounted anti-aircraft gun in the stockpile Cleaver had bought from Hondo. If they’d thought to bring it along…

Still, that speculation didn’t particularly help him right now, as he was not really in a position to take advantage of any options to interfere with the pilots. Besides, these moderately favorable circumstances were unlikely to last much longer. He didn’t have _quite_ enough of a lead to set up decent traps along his trail (though he had successfully bought himself _some_ time that way); the local garrison knew the area in a way he didn’t; and it was getting dark.

So, it was time to change the game.

Hopefully, the hours spent leading his pursuers on a wild chase around the mountain had lulled them into complacency--patterns often did; particularly patterns that were seemingly to one’s own advantage, even if the adversary was setting them. If so, he would have just a little bit of an edge when he suddenly switched tactics and lured them into an open fight.

There was a rock formation, a set of column-like stones set close enough to form almost a crevice or ravine in the mountainside, about half a klick back. He could use those to reasonably decent effect--he would be at an advantage in close quarters, as he could tangle the troopers up with each other, force them into a bottleneck. The problem was, it wasn’t particularly covered from _above,_ leaving him more vulnerable to the TIE fighters than he liked.

On the other hand, it was the best ground he’d seen for dealing with the troops on foot, and the longer he delayed his stand, the likelier they’d regroup and summon reinforcements, or any TIEs scattered to deal with the others would be recalled and sent to focus on the target they _could_ find. And further delays made it likelier his--distraction--or fatigue would start to significantly hinder his performance.

So, the question then became--what was the best way to double back and get into position?

 _Up and over, I think,_ he decided. A maneuver like that would not go unnoticed long enough for him to get back to his ship, of course, or he would have tried it already. It _might_ have been enough to get back to Cleaver’s base, but in addition to being unwilling to risk compromising it by heading there, he needed to get off planet and back in touch with Anakin and Rex as quickly as possible. Even without his commlink, he could collect and respond to any messages they’d sent from the unit in his cockpit.

Regardless, it should fool them long enough for him to set himself for the standoff. Particularly if he provided a bit of a distraction first.

He turned his lightsaber on and off twice in rapid succession; the flickering shone through the dim twilight and drew their eyes and their fire; most of which went wide, though he smelled scorched wool as one bolt caught the hem of his cloak.

He moved aside, in the opposite direction of his actual goal, and gave them another glimpse just over a minute later. The burst of fire in response came closer this time--one bolt nearly connected with his hip, but he twisted out of the way with about a centimeter to spare.

Once more, to cement the pattern, and then he changed course, using the Force to still any tell-tale movement of his cloak or the vegetation he passed through, darting in a wide arc up the mountainside that would end at his rock shelter. He estimated that it would take the troops roughly twice as long as he’d left between flashes to realize he’d shifted, and perhaps a third such period for them to figure out which way he’d turned.

Plenty of time.

His estimate, as it turned out, was a touch over-generous. It was closer to two and a half minutes later that he sensed them back on his trail.

 _Damn._ Well, he could make it work. He was nothing if not adaptable.

He skidded into the quasi-shelter of the rocks, found the most defensible position in easy range, reactivated his lightsaber, and closed his eyes to center himself and wait.

It didn’t take long for the troops to catch up. To their credit, they seemed to grasp fairly quickly that he was making a stand, and actually took a moment to study the ground he’d chosen before taking the bait.

The first attempt had them holding their distance and firing at range, rather than coming closer and risking getting caught up by the rocks and each other. Obi-Wan sank into the Force and deflected the volley smoothly, removing three of his attackers with their own reflected shots.

Hopefully, they would adjust their tactics soon. While he _could_ pick them all off this way, it would lengthen the engagement significantly and _that_ would likewise increase the risk posed by the fighters in the air.

No sooner had he thought that when the Force shouted a warning in his ear, accompanied by the scream of one of the TIEs above cutting through the atmosphere. Obi-Wan launched himself to one side just as the rock he’d been standing on exploded. He landed badly; felt his left shoulder jolt out of its socket.

 _Not good._ Shoulder throbbing and ears still ringing from the blast, he switched to a one-handed grip and got to his feet just in time to deflect the next hail of blaster bolts from the troops on the ground. Considerably less gracefully than the first one; and he gained no further advantage from the reflections.

He heard the fighter coming around for another pass and braced himself to--

The TIE fighter exploded, lighting up the area nearly clear as day, and sending a shower of molten metal fragments down over Obi-Wan and the stormtroopers; parts of the grass even began to smolder.

Startled, he looked up to see a snub-nosed little ship of unfamiliar make shoot through the wreckage and squeeze off a handful of shots at the stormtroopers, killing two and driving the rest back just a bit, towards the rising smoke.

Obi-Wan felt himself relaxing at the sight and, despite the disasters of the day and the dangers of the moment, he smiled.

Because, while he might not have recognized the _ship,_ the bright, spiky presence at the controls was very familiar, indeed.

He lifted his saber in a brief salute, and Ahsoka dipped her wing slightly in response before wheeling to deal with the TIE fighter’s wingmates, leaving the stormtroopers to him.

 

* * *

 

From there--well, it was brutal, inelegant work, but essentially a foregone conclusion, once Obi-Wan had air support of his own.

When the stormtroopers were all dead, he took a moment to brace himself against the rock and pop his shoulder back into place. Then he signaled Ahsoka again, leading the way back to where he’d left his ship.

He didn’t wait for her to land; lost no time climbing into his cockpit and activating his comm unit. There was a brief message from Anakin, requesting an immediate meeting at the Cinna rendezvous point. A followup, from Rex, that there had been a delay. Another, also from Rex, clarifying the length of the delay. A third--upgrading the requested meeting to _urgent_ status, because Anakin was hurt. And a fourth, requesting contact for an updated rendezvous, which meant it was _not_ the prepared safehouse.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, let out a slow breath. _There is no emotion, there is peace._

One last message, from Bail. He decoded it as quickly as he could. _Specter has left Coruscant. Unscheduled._

Obi-Wan went cold. Because, yes, Specter was a neophyte, nothing compared to the adversaries he and Anakin had faced before, but still a Sith Lord. Still something that _should not_ be faced alone.

And Anakin had done exactly that. And he had been--

He had to fight, for a moment, to avoid being overcome by bitter memories.

_There is no emotion, there is peace._

He put the messages aside. Whatever had happened had already happened. There was nothing--nothing he could do about it now. What he needed to do now was focus, speak with Ahsoka--who was here, who was _alive,_ despite all that had happened--and plan what to do next.

Calm and centered again--or as close to it as he was likely to get without extensive meditation--he stood up and made his way back outside, to where Ahsoka was waiting, hovering next to her little ship.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yes, I’m--oof!” She had taken that as permission and slammed into his right side, wrapping her arms around him and clinging tight. After half a startled heartbeat, he put his good arm around her shoulders, hugging her back. Neither of them said anything more--they didn’t need to; the Force around them hummed with muted, weary joy.

Obi-Wan had never expected to see her again. And just because he’d long ago accepted what had appeared to be reality didn’t mean he wasn’t quietly _thrilled_ to be proved wrong.

“It’s so weird,” she said after a moment, finally pulling back. “Being _taller_ than you.”

She wasn’t wrong; it _was_ decidedly odd to look up at her. It was also not an entirely unfamiliar sensation. He still remembered when he’d realized Anakin had gotten taller than he was--and, despite not having a six-year separation to make the change more obvious and jarring, it had _still_ surprised him.

“Well, it was bound to happen sometime,” he said. Togruta were taller, on average, than Humans, after all.

“Fair enough,” she said, with a brief, pointed grin before her face turned serious again. “You sure you’re okay? You went down pretty hard back there.”

“Dislocated shoulder,” he said, refraining from touching it. That would only hurt, and to no purpose. “I already set it, and it seems to be holding. I’ll live.”

She nodded. “All right. Let me know if you want me to take a look, too.”

“I will.” He smiled briefly. “And...thank you, for earlier. I’m very glad you were able to help,” he said. “But how did you find me?” If he’d somehow left more of a trail than he should have--well, someone decidedly _less_ welcome might have found it, too; and it wasn’t just his own safety at risk if he’d been compromised.

“Rex told me,” she said.

Ah, of course. “Rex,” he said, with a faint sigh, “is supposed to wait twenty-four hours.” But he relaxed anyway--no chance of compromise after all; more importantly, if she’d seen Rex, she’d seen Anakin. Which meant she could tell him what the hell had _happened._

“Notice how Rex isn’t here,” she pointed out.

A fair point, and a loophole that had almost certainly saved his life earlier. So he let it pass. “And Anakin?” he asked quietly.

“I didn’t--I don’t know all the details, I got there after,” she said, then took a breath. “Rex told me they were ambushed, by Specter.”

Confirming what Bail’s message had already told him. _There is no emotion, there is peace._

“How bad?” he asked.

“Bad,” she said. “Specter cut off Anakin’s leg.”

Which called up a different set of unpleasant memories; of the first battle of Geonosis, and Anakin’s arm, of seeing him in pain and adrift in the aftermath--but this time, they didn’t have the resources of the Temple and its healers behind them to help put him back together.

 _Oh, Anakin…_ Obi-Wan closed his eyes. _The Sith keep taking pieces of him away, and I can’t--we will manage this time, we will find a way, but I don’t know...I don’t know how much harder it will be._

“He’s safe now,” she went on, putting a reassuring hand on Obi-Wan’s arm. “Rex and I got him to a doctor I know. Dr. Naar’s good people, he’s helped me out before.” She paused. “He said--there’s an infection, and he said that he couldn’t fit a prosthetic ‘til he cleared that up, or it might mess up the neural mapping.”

Which was--not good. _But Anakin is alive, he’s in good hands, and he’s--he’s survived worse than this._ Which was a poor choice, so far as train of thought went; Geonosis and the Temple faded and he once again pictured Anakin on the _Tantive,_ unnaturally still but for his labored breathing.

 _Concentrate on the here and now,_ he reminded himself sternly. And there _was_ a set of immediate, concrete problems that he needed to solve. Focusing on those would help him pull himself together in the short term. He could worry about the long term once he’d actually _seen_ his brother again.

“Right,” he said, clearing his throat briefly. “How long to get back there, roughly?”

“A couple hours,” she said. “But we might want to delay a little, approach the clinic after dark. Less chance we’ll draw attention.”

A good point. Still, they could hardly wait _here._ “We’ll get to the planet and lie low for a few hours,” he said.

“Got it.” She frowned. “Any ideas for getting past that Navy ship? I slipped past before, but they’ll recognize me after what I did to their fighters. I don’t know if they know what _your_ ship looks like, but…”

He grimaced. “They’ll be looking for suspicious departures. Possibly stopping _any_ non-official traffic as it leaves.” It’s what _he_ would have done, searching for a fugitive back when he’d had an extensive military apparatus backing him up.

But Anakin had planned for this particular problem. It was simply that the solution was--extremely unpleasant.

“What?” Ahsoka asked.

“There’s a modification on my ship’s hyperdrive,” he said. “Allowing it to enter hyperspace from within a gravity well. It can cause significant seismic and meteorological backlash as gravity compensates, and it’s...disconcerting, from inside the ship.”

“I’ll bet,” she said. “So they’ll still see us going, but they won’t be able to stop us.”

“Yes,” he said. _Though that could be a problem, too._ If the Navy was watching closely enough, they might well pick up on his departure vector, which could lead them to Ahsoka’s medic.

Unless…

“...how do you feel about using your ship as a decoy?” he asked. They’d have to leave it behind, anyway, to avoid _her_ getting arrested, but there was a difference between the two.

She blinked, then smiled slowly. “Well, I can always get another. I’ve only had this one for about three months, anyway.”

Right. For as much as she’d picked up Anakin’s habit of working with engines when stressed or bored, she didn’t have quite the same tendency to cling to them.

“Get the autopilot set,” he said. “We’ll send it off against the _Thunder Wasp,_ then take off once it clears the atmosphere.”

“Sounds good,” she said, then grinned and hugged him one more time. “It’s good to be back.”

He smiled back at her again. “Yes,” he said, softly. “It is.”

 

* * *

 

 

Commander Thrawn watched the starfighter pierce through the atmosphere, on a collision course with the _Thunder Wasp._ It matched the markings of the one that had come to the Jedi’s aid earlier that evening, destroying several TIE fighters in the process.

But based on what he’d observed today, it was likely a decoy--his opponent shown had a preference for sleight of hand and building layers of misdirection into his plans. Observing its flight pattern only confirmed the suspicion. While it had been programmed fairly well, its reactions to the _Wasp’s_ guns were not the reflexes of a sentient being. Certainly not the type of acrobatic flying the pilot had shown during the skirmish.

It was on autopilot.

Which meant that the real departure--or departures; Thrawn couldn’t yet rule out the Jedi and his ally leaving the planet separately--would be in a different direction. One camouflaged, in some way, by the decoy’s vector. Probably not the exact opposite direction. That would be too obvious. An angle, then, moving through one of the _Thunder Wasp’s_ few blind spots.

He had his remaining TIE fighters split between the two likeliest paths for the actual ship, with orders to harry it within range of the tractor beam if at all possible. The decoy, he left to be destroyed by the _Thunder Wasp’s_ guns.

But then there was a sudden burst of atmospheric disturbance, from near where the decoy had taken off. Not another launch. Not anything Thrawn had seen before.

A storm blew up out of nothing, and sensors indicated a sudden, sharp, gravitational shift, resulting in a minor earthquake as the planet tried to compensate.

It was _theoretically_ possible, according to research Thrawn had done in the past, for a ship to enter hyperspace from within a gravity well. And projections indicated consequences similar to what he was observing now.

He left his TIE fighters in place for a few minutes more, just in case, but did not expect them to find anything. The Jedi was gone; his insurgent allies, while only stealing a small fraction of the ammunition, had also gotten away, other than one casualty on the larger team; a Nautolan male who had not yet been conclusively identified.

The overall engagement had ended in a draw.

At least the image reconstruction and identification program he’d been running had at last turned up a result, by the time he ordered his fighters to stand down. The mystery Jedi proved to be Obi-Wan Kenobi; a name Thrawn recognized. General Skywalker had spoken extensively of him years ago, when they’d met. And, based on Kenobi’s quick reactions and strategies when working with extremely limited resources, the praise Skywalker had given was certainly merited.

Thrawn made a mental note to acquire as much of Kenobi’s record as he could. Carefully; without drawing too much attention to that or his other semi-legal research. The majority of it would be heavily redacted, of course, and it might take several months or years before he got his hands on what was left, but there would be something.

And, after an introduction like that one, he highly doubted this was the last time his path and Kenobi’s would cross. It wouldn’t do to be unprepared when they met again.

Besides, he was a _survivor,_ and an extremely clever man. Both of which made him a dangerous adversary to face. That next engagement, when it came, would certainly be one to remember.

Thrawn was already looking forward to it.


	40. Part 4, Chapter 12

It really was remarkable how much the situation--and with it, Rex’s overall mood--had improved in just a few hours.

Dr. Naar was, so far as Rex was concerned, a kriffing _miracle worker._ It had taken a few hours, and a couple of different kinds of medication, but he’d gotten the General stabilized, and his fever under control, if not completely broken yet. He’d, of course, done a much better and more thorough job of cleaning and dressing the stump than Rex had managed, as well as taking care of all the more minor, incidental injuries from the fight and falling down the mountain. There was, Naar had determined, no serious or lasting _specific_ damage from exposure, which was even better news. On the other hand, the hypothermia, along with the delay in treatment, _had_ exacerbated and complicated everything else. And stable didn’t mean completely out of the woods just yet.

Still, the General already looked _worlds_ better, and was resting at least somewhat comfortably on a pallet they’d set up in one of the clinic’s storerooms. Dr. Naar had assured Rex that, because of the value of some of the equipment and medicines he kept in there, access was tightly controlled, minimizing the chance that another patient would see and expose them when the clinic opened for its normal working hours.

There was only one door--good and bad, for their current safety; but necessary for the room’s regular use--but there was a back way out of the clinic itself, just in case. Rex had taken the time to go over the route in detail after Dr. Naar had shown it to him. He figured, even carrying the General, he could make it in about thirty seconds. If he had to. Which, at least in this brief, badly-needed moment of optimism, seemed unlikely, but it was better to be prepared.

In short, things were going well for the moment; enough so that Rex had been able to _relax_ a little, drifting into a shallow doze while he watched the door. Not quite _sleep,_ of course; not in unfamiliar territory with no real backup and someone to protect, but rest of a kind.

Time dripped by like that for half a local morning. Dr. Naar checked in on them twice, between other patients--each time tapping on the door in a simple pattern the two of them had developed the night before, and waiting for Rex to respond before actually coming in.

And then, maybe two standard hours before local noon, Rex’s comlink beeped, pulling him instantly to full awareness. The message, to his profound relief, proved to be from General Kenobi, at last--the Commander had made contact, and they were on their way.

“Good news?” General Skywalker asked softly, from the other corner of the little room.

Rex jerked a little in surprise and looked up. “Sorry, sir,” he said. “Didn’t realize you were awake.” Which was--well, probably a good thing at the moment, actually; an indication that, for once, the General was _behaving_ himself when sidelined after an injury.

“Mm.” He took a breath, then started to push himself up.

“Sir--” Rex started to object, then paused, reconsidering. The General _was_ doing better, and there wasn’t anything he was likely to damage more if he sat against the wall instead of lying on the floor. Especially if he decided he wanted water, or something of the kind. _Pick your battles. This one isn’t worth the argument right now._ “Need a hand?” he asked instead.

He shook his head. “No, I got it.” With care, and with visible effort, he managed to sit up and resettle, leaning against one of the shelves. “What…” He paused, cleared his throat briefly. “What’s the message?”

 _Yeah. Good call._ Rex passed him a canteen, which he accepted with a nod of thanks. “Commander Tano found General Kenobi. They’re on their way here now.” Though they’d probably wait to actually approach until dark. Safer for all concerned.

The General brightened; and actually managed a genuine, if rather brief, smile. _“Very_ good news,” he said, then paused again. “...where _is_ here, exactly?”

“Clinic,” he said. “Commander knows the doctor. It’s safe.”

“All right,” he said, then carefully set the canteen down. His hands were steady; good. “How long’ve I been out?”

“Since yesterday.”

He nodded, then frowned, thinking for a minute; then his eyes widened briefly and he sat up a little straighter. “We need to go.”

“What?” Rex said, automatically reaching for his pistol. “Is--why? What happened?” If the clinic was compromised, or if--

“No, nothing--not that,” he said hastily. “Sorry, sorry. But we have to--I have to get back. To the farm.”

“Wh--” And then Rex did the same mental math, caught on to what had his General so upset.

Leia’s birthday.

 _“Oh,”_ he breathed, then shook his head. “Sir, you’re still--you need to stay here. Look, give me a couple hours, I can set up a secure frequency, and--”

“No,” he cut him off. “I have to _be_ there. I _promised.”_

“Given the circumstances, I’m sure she’ll understand,” he said. Not that they would probably _tell_ her the full circumstances--that would only upset her--but she’d fill in the blanks. She was a smart kid.

The General glowered at him. “She’s _six,”_ he said. “All she’ll understand is that Daddy wasn’t _there_ when he said he would be. I’m not--I’m not doing that to her. I miss too much already, I won’t--I _can’t_ miss this.”

Rex thought General Skywalker wasn’t giving her nearly enough credit. Then again, he wasn’t exactly an expert on kids. He and his brothers had been--different. The General might actually be right here.

“You’re still hurt,” he tried instead. “You can’t _stand.”_

“I’ll manage,” he said, through gritted teeth.

“You have a fever.” Rex was guessing on that, but the General’s eyes were still glassy, and he was still a little flushed.

“I don’t _care.”_

Yeah. He should’ve known that wasn’t going to work. Once General Skywalker was _this_ set on something, especially where Leia was concerned, he couldn’t be persuaded out of it. Not by Rex, anyway; or at least not for reasons of his own health or safety. And Rex couldn’t think of any other argument that had even _half_ a chance of working.

Which left him with two options. Option one, he could drug him--or, rather, have Dr. Naar drug him, since he had no idea what meds he’d already been given, and _that_ was not a risk he could take.

That was the smart play. Objectively speaking, it was probably the best thing Rex could do right now. It would keep him safe, within range of medical attention if some unexpected new complication came up. And it would, at least temporarily, keep General Skywalker from _actively_ doing something incredibly stupid and dangerous.

But that was assuming that they could keep him under until General Kenobi got here and talked some sense into him, which wasn’t guaranteed. And if he _did_ wake up, he’d just try again, this time slipping past Rex rather than letting him help. General Skywalker was an _extremely_ resourceful man when he put his mind to it. He’d find a way.

And he would never trust Rex again.

_I will never betray you or let you fall again. I promise._

Which led to option two--Rex could go along with this mad scheme, try to control the situation and keep his General from hurting himself worse along the way, and then get him back here as quick as possible.

And deal with an _extremely_ unhappy General Kenobi once he did.

“All right,” he said, taking the lesser of two terrible options. “All _right._ But if we do this, we do this _my_ way, all right?”

“Fine,” he said. “As long as we _go.”_

“We’re going,” he said, reluctantly. Just as soon as he figured out the best way to do it without getting caught.

Getting out of the clinic wouldn’t be too hard, at least. They could use the route he’d already mapped out. Getting through the town to the ship, though--that might be harder. Even if they hid the General’s face, they couldn’t well hide his condition, and hauling an obviously sick and wounded man through the streets would draw attention (as it should; but the alternative was even riskier in the long run). And it was too early in the day to pretend he was just drunk.

There _was_ an alternate path they could take; the clinic was close enough to the edge of town that it was possible to avoid the issue, skirting along the edges to get back to the ship. Problem was, that route was indirect, and significantly longer, and a long route meant more exposure, more stress, more danger of another kind.

In the end, he decided it was better to take the route that had less chance of either of them getting arrested, and maybe bringing trouble down on Dr. Naar and his clinic. The patch job on the _Waterfall_ would hold up well enough, so he didn’t need to worry about that, at least. He and the Commander had done a damn good job, given the constraints they’d been working under. For a moment, he almost wished they hadn’t, and he could honestly tell the General that they _couldn’t_ go. But, on the other hand, that would mean that if their presence here was somehow compromised, they wouldn’t have a way off-planet.

Still, the ship wasn’t _entirely_ repaired; not yet. _Maybe he’ll be sidetracked wanting to finish fixing it, and that’ll delay him ‘til the others get back._ Rex didn’t think it was all that likely, not when anything involving Leia was at stake, but there was always a chance.

“All right,” he finally said again, then stood up. “I’m going to check if we’re clear, then help you up.”

The General nodded and leaned back against the shelf again.

Rex very carefully opened the door a crack, more than half-hoping that Dr. Naar would be right there to derail this mad escape plan.

But, of course, he wasn’t that lucky. The doctor was busy in the other room, and not in position to see and stop them.

He took a deep breath, and tried one last time. “Sir, is there _anything_ I could say that would talk you out of this?”

Behind him, the General sighed but, tired and in pain though he was, he didn’t snap this time. “No,” he said softly. “I miss too much. This is--this is what I have. What she has. I can’t...this is what we have.”

Well, it was worth a shot. _So much for the situation improving._

He nodded. “Okay,” he said. He turned back from the door to find that the General, while not trying to stand on his own, had already unhooked most of the various monitors Dr. Naar had set up and pulled his IV. Rex found some gauze on one of the shelves and taped it over the sluggishly-bleeding insertion point.

“Thanks,” he said.

“Yeah.” He carefully crouched down, positioning himself under the General’s arm, ready to help him get vertical. “Tell me if it gets to be too much, and we’ll stop.” He paused, watching General Skywalker’s eyes for a minute, then added, “Also, I’m driving.”

The General looked like he might argue for a moment, then nodded. “Ahsoka’s doctor gave me too damn many painkillers. You’re driving.”

Well. At least _that_ was one argument they didn’t have to have.

“Ready?” he said, once he was sure he had a decent grip on his General.

He nodded. “Ready.”

“Brace yourself,” Rex said, then slowly stood up.

The General came with him, grabbing onto the shelf for support. He paled a little, but remained conscious. “I’m good,” he said, voice tight with pain but clear and lucid. “Let’s go.”

Rex nodded once, then eased him towards the door, checked again to see if anyone was coming, and began picking their careful way out of the clinic and back towards the _Waterfall,_ praying to every deity he’d ever heard of that he wasn’t making a terrible mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anakin, stop making poor life choices. ::sigh:: On the other hand, we'll get to see Leia again very soon?
> 
> We're getting close to wrapping up this arc, I think! Maybe two or three more chapters. I did not expect it to go on this long, wow...
> 
> Anyway, thanks for sticking with me, and I'll see y'all next week! <3
> 
> ~shadowsong


	41. Part 4, Chapter 13

Bail had come over to join them for dinner, and for once, they _weren’t_ actually conspiring.

...well, all right, Motee was helping Luke write a formal request to visit Princess Lavinia, and that was sort of conspiracy- _adjacent,_ but that was all.

Which wasn’t to say that Padme and Bail weren’t getting any work done. After all, the more they worked together on above-board projects, the more cover they had for their illicit activities. The Senate was mostly a formality these days, but they found plenty of perfectly legitimate reasons to collaborate, on aid projects, on what little official Senate business they had left…

They’d had this dinner planned for a while, ever since they’d both confirmed they’d be on Coruscant for Founding Week. In part for their cover, in part for the task at hand, and in part because they knew they’d both probably need the escape.

It _was_ an escape, to a simple, dreamy world where double meanings to their actions were an occasional, unfortunate necessity, rather than the rule. It made her feel almost nostalgic, which was probably a little ridiculous. Because, looking back, there had _never_ been a time where things were simple. Not really. _Maybe_ before the Clone War started, but even then…

Then again, maybe everything that had happened since was tainting her memories of those times. She _did_ remember feeling this way--or she thought she did, anyway--but now she knew that most of Palpatine’s plans had probably been in motion even then, and it rang false in her mind. She didn’t miss her naivete, exactly, but…

It was nice, to at least partially recapture that feeling, even if only for an evening.

“What are you thinking?” Bail asked.

“Hm? Sorry, I got distracted for a moment.” She shook her head, set her wineglass down on the table next to the datapad he’d brought, returning her attention to the actual discussion. “I still think the mobile option is better--what’s the point of getting the equipment down to that district if no one can actually access it?”

He nodded, and sighed. “Whichever option we go with is going to be a half-measure, unless we get more funding.”

“And I’m all out of favors I can call in on this one.” At least if she wanted to keep a few in the bank for their _next_ project.

“Likewise,” he said. “I still think having the resources to cope with a larger emergency would be--”

He stopped abruptly, one hand going to his vest pocket.

“Bail?” Padme asked. “What’s wrong?”

Luke, over in his corner, looked up as well, breaking off in the middle of some question he was asking Motee.

Bail glanced briefly over at Dorme, who nodded, set down the book she was reading, and silently went over to the security station.

Which meant--possibly--that he had the emergency comlink on him, the one that connected them and their operations to the others. It made sense, especially with Specter’s sudden disappearance, but if some message had come through…

“Sorry,” he continued after a second. “I thought I’d come up with an additional funding scheme that would patch some of these holes, but the logistics wouldn’t work. Not unless we want to wait another year to get this off the ground.”

Motee put a hand on Luke’s shoulder, but his focus on his letter was completely gone. He shook her off and crossed the room, climbing onto the couch to burrow into Padme’s side. He’d been clingy like that all day, after having had a bad dream the night before. She knew she should probably gently detach him and send him back to her handmaiden, so he wouldn’t see or overhear some detail he shouldn’t, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to do it. He needed this right now.

And, really, she did, too.

So, instead, Padme gave him a reassuring smile and kissed the top of his head. With the ease of long practice, she kept her voice light as she answered Bail. “No, I think even a half-measure now is better than waiting. And I think either way, emergencies are going to be a problem. So I think we should err on the side of covering as many non-crisis-level problems as possible.”

“Hm.” He considered for a minute, then nodded. “All right, you’ve convinced me. Mobile it is.”

“Clear,” Dorme cut in.

Luke tightened his hold on Padme’s waist, and she turned his head so he wouldn’t see as Bail pulled out the comlink and called up the message. That would have to be enough.

Text only, she saw immediately. Good, less likely for Luke to see what it contained and get more upset than he already was. She held her breath while Bail ran the necessary decryption protocol, then his eyes widened.

“What is it?” she asked.

He turned to show her the screen.

_Specter is dead. May need additional resources for aftermath. Will be in touch._

She read it twice, to be sure she understood. Between that and Luke’s nightmare…

“Who…?” she asked.

He glanced down at Luke. She covered his ears.

“Ben sent the message,” he said.

Padme closed her eyes. On the subject of--memories; this was too...too much like it had been six years ago, waiting and waiting and _waiting_ with only the knowledge that something terrible had happened, and Bail as her trusted go-between, her only reliable source of information. Who might be silent again for hours-- _days._

She did _not_ tighten her hold on Luke, because that might be tight enough to hurt. But it was tempting.

“You’ll--as soon as you hear more…”

“You’ll be the first to know,” he promised.

“Update me…” She opened her eyes. “Update me at least every couple hours, please? Even if it’s just to say no news yet.”

He nodded. “I understand,” he said.

“Thank you.” She ran her hand over Luke’s hair again, and forced herself to breathe normally. As awful as waiting was, the odds were good that trying to do anything else right now would just make the situation worse. At least until she had more information to go on.

And they should probably have Dorme shut down the active countersurveillance before it was noticed, get back to their earlier discussion, close it out and send Bail on his way and put Luke to bed, but she couldn’t--

She needed another moment first. To lock those memories away again, for just a little while longer.

 

* * *

 

This was not actually the first time a patient had vanished on Dr. Naar before they were ready to be released--an unfortunate habit of people who didn’t want to be found, but needed help enough to come to him anyway. It wasn’t even the first time a (theoretically) immobile patient had done it. It _was_ the first time this had happened in broad daylight, but he supposed that really didn’t matter much.

And, based on what he knew of the Jedi’s reputation, he’d fully expected Skywalker to be one of _those_ patients; unwilling to take the time he needed to heal properly before diving back into his work, either because prolonged idleness drove him mad or he considered his work that important. Or both. So, while opening the storeroom door to find the Jedi and his companion gone was certainly... _alarming,_ it wasn’t exactly _shocking,_ once he’d gotten a moment to think about it.

Still, alarmed or not, shocked or not, he was definitely _worried._ For one thing, while he had gotten Skywalker stabilized the night before, the young man was by no means well enough to be up and about. He would probably end up, at minimum, undoing a good chunk of the work Dr. Naar had done, if not making things worse for himself.

And then there was the creeping fear that, rather than just garden-variety hero-complex idiocy, something had actually _spooked_ Skywalker, made him want to go to ground somewhere with fewer potential witnesses.

Or less collateral damage.

After all, one would think it would take at _least_ a full day of consciousness for Skywalker to reach a breaking point, particularly with a companion to keep an eye on him and rein him in while Dr. Naar tended to other patients.

But as the day went by and the only soldier who came to his door was one who’d had an unfortunate encounter with a dreek-thorn bush, that worry gradually faded. Not entirely--that kind of anxiety would probably never completely go away, not as long as Dr. Naar continued to associate with and treat Jedi fugitives--but enough that he could put it out of his mind. Enough that he was able to focus on the patients who _were_ here, and spend his spare moments on the slightly-more-productive worry for the way Skywalker was probably derailing his recovery, and what might be done to reverse that when he came back.

 _If_ he came back.

And then, about a half-hour after full dark, the Togruta ex-Jedi returned. At this point, Dr. Naar was almost positive she was Skywalker’s former apprentice, but he couldn’t recall her name; she hadn’t made the news nearly as frequently, or recently, as he had.

And, once again, she wasn’t alone.

Here, again, was a _very_ familiar face, and a completely unsurprising one. Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker had come as a set for so long that Dr. Naar probably would have wondered where Kenobi was, if he hadn’t had his hands full with other concerns.

He was a little shorter than Dr. Naar had expected, but legends often were; reddish hair starting to go grey; leaning on the wall with one arm pressed tight to his side. Broken or dislocated shoulder, probably.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when the Togruta--what _was_ her name; it was hovering just out of reach--stopped halfway into the clinic, tilting her head. “He’s not here,” she said, frowning.

“No,” he said. “They left hours ago. I’m sorry, I had other patients--”

“It’s not your fault,” she assured him quickly, flashing a brief, if tight, smile to show she meant what she said. “How long ago, exactly?”

“At least nine hours,” he said. The last time he’d checked on them had been about three hours before noon; he’d come back just over two hours later to find the room empty. “I...I didn’t have any way to contact you.” Not that he’d actually thought of it until this moment, but if he’d had the option, maybe he would have. It didn’t really much of a difference at this point, of course, but he felt like it should be said.

She shook her head. “Don’t worry about it,” she said, then glanced over at Kenobi.

“We’ll find them, Ahsoka,” he said.

 _Ah, that’s her name._ He fixed it in his memory as best he could.

“Yeah,” she said. “We shouldn’t lose any more time, then.”

He nodded, pushing himself up from the wall. “Thank you for your time, Doctor.”

“Wait a minute,” Dr. Naar said, holding up a hand to stop them. “I can at least take a look at your arm before you go.”

Kenobi considered for a minute, then nodded again. “Thank you,” he said. Dr. Naar pointed him to a seat and he took it with a faint, weary sigh.

Dr. Naar got his scanner and checked the setting on the shoulder. It was a simple dislocation, and everything had been lined up correctly. Not all that much for him to do here at this point, other than a shot he could give that would ease the pain and swelling and speed up the healing process. And provide a sling, of course--sped up didn’t mean instantaneous.

Kenobi relaxed a little when the shot kicked in, but simply held the sling in his lap for a moment, rather than putting it on. “How much damage has he done, running off like this?”

Of course. The key question; he supposed it was inevitable once he’d stopped them rushing out the door quite so fast. Unfortunately, “Hard to say,” he said, shaking his head. “It depends on where he’s going, how smooth and easy the trip is...significant, I can say that much. Especially if his fever spikes again, which it probably will.”

He nodded. “Right, of course.” He paused a minute. “When we’ve caught up with him, may we bring him back here? I understand if you’re unwilling to take the risk again.”

“He still needs care,” he said immediately. _And no one gets turned away._ “Even if _he_ doesn’t seem to think so.” He paused. “I’m sorry, that was…”

“True,” Ahsoka said, wryly.

“He can be...difficult sometimes,” Kenobi added. “I’ll speak to him. _This_ won’t happen again.”

“Let’s just say I know the type,” he said dryly. “But--my point was, he still needs care. That’s all that matters to me. Besides, I’m...apparently not exactly immune to doing something reckless, either. As far as the risk goes, I’m not sure you’ll find anyone else fool enough to take it.” Which was...unfortunate, and all the more reason for _him_ to do it.

“Most likely not,” he agreed softly. “Thank you. _Thank_ you. We’ll have him back--” He frowned. “I don’t know that we’ll be able to make the round trip before sunrise, but tomorrow night, if at all possible.”

“All right.” Not exactly ideal, but _ideal_ of course would have been Skywalker never leaving in the first place. This was the next-best thing. “You know where he’s gone, then?”

“Oh, yes,” he said. “I know _exactly_ where he’s gone.”

But _Ahsoka_ hadn’t, based on the quick but intense flash flash of relief Dr. Naar caught on her face before she covered it up.

“All right,” he said. “The sooner the better, but I understand you need to take precautions.”

Kenobi nodded, then stood and bowed. “We should go. Thank you again, Doctor. For...for everything.”

“Of course,” he said. Then pointedly added, “You should wear the sling for at least three days.”

“...ah. Right.” He had the grace to look a little sheepish, and put it on, adjusting his cloak so it was more or less hidden; one sleeve lying empty for the moment.

Ahsoka waited until he was settled, then bowed briefly. “We’ll see you tomorrow, Doctor,” she said.

“Tomorrow,” he agreed, and showed them out the back way. He watched until they disappeared into the cool darkness, then retreated to lock up. Just as if it were any other night.

Because, at least until tomorrow, that was the best he could do for Skywalker and all of his other patients--keep up appearances, act like nothing was wrong, act like he wasn’t harboring Jedi fugitives, and ensure his clinic was still there and open when they returned.

 

* * *

 

Leia was _not_ hiding from her aunt and uncle on the roof. Not at all. Only little kids did that, and she wasn’t _ever_ going to convince Daddy she was old enough to go with him if she kept doing little kid stuff.

Besides, if she _was_ hiding, she’d’ve picked a _lot_ better place than up here where all Aunt Beru or Uncle Owen had to do was walk outside to see her. She wasn’t _dumb._

She just--wanted to be alone for a bit, that was all. It was probably better that way, ‘cause all day she’d felt weird and jumpy, like everything anyone said to her was something broken and sharp trying to burrow under her skin until she wanted to scream. Ever since the dream she’d had last night, the one that had started on the silver planet but then all of a sudden jumped to a place she’d never seen before, one that was black and white and _cold._

It had been _scary,_ and Leia really, _really_ did not like being scared.

So she’d climbed up here, where all of that could stop for a little bit, and it was just her and the sand and the suns, counting the minutes until Daddy got home for her birthday. Things would be better once he got here. They almost always were.

She’d lost track of time, but the suns were still no more than halfway to the horizon when she heard the speeder coming up, and she knew that was Daddy and Uncle Rex.

Except--that didn’t make any _sense._ They always got _eopies,_ ‘cause they were quieter and lasted longer in the sand. But she _knew_ it was them, the way she sometimes just...knew things.

_Not good._

She stood up and shaded her eyes, trying to get a look for the speck on the horizon where they were coming from.

_Mos Eisley? But that’s where they came in last time and Daddy always switches…_

For a minute, she was back in her dream, even though that cold, dark place couldn’t be farther from midafternoon on Tatooine if it _tried._

She scowled and shook her head until she _stopped_ feeling like that, then slid down the side of the dome to meet them.

It didn’t take all _that_ long for them to pull up, even if the two or three minutes _felt_ like forever. As soon as they were close enough, Leia didn’t even wait for the speeder to come to a full stop before she darted over to it. Uncle Rex was driving, and Daddy was--

Daddy was _hurt._

And, yeah, okay, it wasn’t the first time. He’d come home bruised and stiff and achy before, even if he always pretended he wasn’t where she could see, but this--this--this--not like _this._

His eyes drifted open and he smiled at her, a little sideways. “Hey, princess,” he said, ruffling her hair and his hand was shaking a bit. “Missed you lots.”

“Missed you, too,” she said, automatically, then climbed up onto the speeder and flung her arms around him--real _careful,_ ‘cause she didn’t know exactly where he was hurt--and buried her face in his shoulder. He was hot, too hot, even for driving hours in the suns-- _fever_ hot. She blinked back tears.

“Hey…” he said again, hugging her close. “Hey, it’s okay, princess. It’s okay, I’m here.”

She just nodded, and didn’t let go, until she felt Uncle Rex’s hand land on her shoulder.

“C’mon, _ad’ika,”_ he said. “We should get inside.”

Right. ‘Cause Daddy was hurt, and he had a fever, so he needed to lie down. Reluctantly, she detached herself and climbed down off the speeder, hovering just out of the way while Uncle Rex helped Daddy out and--

Daddy’s _leg_ was gone.

It was just-- _gone._

A big, choking lump built up at the back of her throat and her eyes started prickling because _Daddy._ And part of her wanted to go cling to him again so he wouldn’t--so she would _know_ he wasn’t getting hurt any more, and part of her wanted to go find whoever did that to him and put scorpions in their bed, and part of her wanted to run inside for Aunt Beru who would probably know what to do to make him feel better, and part of her whispered, _if he’d just let me come this never would have happened._ Except she knew _that_ was dumb, just like she knew that scorpions in the bad guy’s bed wouldn’t _fix_ this, and that running to cling to Daddy would probably just make him fall over which would make things _worse._

“I--I-I’m gonna get Aunt Beru,” she said. Because then at least she’d be _doing_ something.

“Good idea,” Uncle Rex said. “We’ll be right behind you.”

Daddy didn’t say anything. Daddy was maybe just focusing on standing right now.

And that was all it took for her to start _actually_ crying. But she had a _job_ to do, so she tried to blink back the tears and make them stop; just for a little while, just until Daddy was inside and okay.

When that didn’t work after a few seconds, she gave up and just took a shaky breath to steady herself before turning and _running_ inside for help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we are officially past 100k words, wow.
> 
> Uh, so I'll do some sort of bonus to mark the milestone on [my writing tumblr](https://shadowsong26fic.tumblr.com/)\--I'll probably post something about that sometime in the next couple days. Feel free to message me if there's anything you want to see!
> 
> And thank you all so much for staying with me for this long <3
> 
> ~shadowsong


	42. Part 4, Chapter 14

By the time Anakin and Rex got to Tatooine, the painkillers had mostly worn off, which meant every move he made sent shooting pain up his thigh, bad enough that his vision greyed out at the edges a couple times. So he wasn’t all that inclined to argue when Rex insisted on a speeder instead of eopies, or when he refused to let him drive. The heat wasn’t helping, making him even dizzier and lending a disconcerting haze to everything he saw; when the light from the suns wasn’t trying to dig its way past his skull, adding to the pounding headache the drugs had left behind. Between all of that and the way the horizon kept tilting dangerously, it was a lot easier to just close his eyes, rely on Rex to find their way, and focus on not passing out.

 _You can do this,_ he told himself. _Come on, remember why you’re here. Keep it together. For Leia._

They got to the farm--a whole hell of a lot quicker than they should have. Or maybe he’d fallen asleep for a while; despite having apparently done not much else for the last day or so, he was still bone-deep tired.

But then Leia’s presence emerged like a third sun on the horizon--which meant they were practically on top of their destination; he and Obi-Wan had taught her basic shielding as soon as they could so no one would find her that way--and he came more or less fully awake in response.

He opened his eyes when the faint whine of the engines cut off, and Leia was standing right there, wide-eyed and tense, a spiky tendril of alarm twining through her.

He squelched a stab of guilt as best he could and smiled. “Hey, princess,” he said, ruffling her hair. “Missed you lots.”

“Missed you, too,” she said, then the next thing he knew she was perched on the speeder itself, clinging tight. Her breath came shaky in his ear and he thought he heard her sniff a little bit.

“Hey…” he said again, hugging her close. “Hey, it’s okay, princess. It’s okay, I’m here.” He did his best to project calm and reassurance at her-- _see, Daddy’s fine, I’m here, I made it, just like I promised, don’t cry, everything’s gonna be fine_ \--but he wasn’t all that sure it was working.

He was vaguely aware of Rex coming up behind Leia and murmuring something he couldn’t quite catch, and then Leia let go and jumped down off the speeder.

“We should get inside, sir,” Rex said, quietly, once she was clear.

“Yeah.” He got an arm around Rex’s shoulder and braced himself to move and it was _awful._ For a split second, the pain was almost overwhelming and then he was vertical, clinging to Rex with his eyes squeezed shut against the swirling sky.

Still conscious, at least. That was a plus.

Although he must have been closer to the edge than he thought; he barely registered what was happening when someone--Beru; that was definitely Beru--slipped under his other arm a moment later, helping Rex support him, other than a fresh burst of pain and vertigo as his weight shifted. He bit back a faint moan--Leia was _right there,_ and she was already upset, _scared,_ which was _not_ why he was here. As soon as he got inside and stopped moving and the horizon settled a little bit, he could reassure her, and then--

He probably blacked out for a minute then, because the next thing he knew, he was settled on one of the sleeping platforms inside, under what was probably the softest blanket they had.

Cautiously, he opened his eyes--everything was still fuzzy on the edges, which was a little discouraging, but at least it wasn’t as bright in here. Which helped with the headache, a little bit. Kept it from getting worse, anyway.

His _leg,_ though, was still burning, even when he was trying not to move. And, yeah, it wasn’t as bad as--

Automatically, he shied away from _that_ comparison; latched onto another, slightly less devastating.

It was _worse_ than when Dooku had taken his arm. Which was not a good sign, but probably not because Specter had done any more damage _himself,_ but back then he’d gotten treated a lot faster, which--he wasn’t stupid. He _knew_ that made a difference, he _knew_ this time would have been worse than before, even with all the resources of the Temple to help, and _without_ that--just, he knew things were pretty bad right now. For all Obi-Wan liked to lecture him about being reckless and ignoring medics when he got himself blown up (which, really, like _he_ could talk, Anakin _remembered_ what had happened at the Second Battle of Geonosis, okay)--but he...there were things that were _important,_ things that he _had_ to do, and anyway he could take the pain, so--

“Daddy?” Leia’s voice cut through his thoughts, bringing his attention _back_ where it belonged, to the most important thing in his life right now. She was hovering at his side, watching over him; had probably sensed him starting to wake up.

She sounded--she sounded like she’d been crying.

 _Damn it._ He mustered as much energy as he could and half sat up, gritting his teeth against the wave of dizziness and propping himself up on one arm. “Hey, princess,” he said, dredging up a smile for her that hopefully didn’t look too forced.

A burst of relief shone out of her--not quite enough to totally overcome her worry, but better than nothing--matched by a brilliant smile of her own in response.

“Hi, Daddy. Here,” she said, pressing a cup into his free hand.

“Thanks,” he said. He pressed it against his forehead briefly before drinking it, but it wasn’t quite cold enough to help with the headache, or that fever Rex had pointed out when trying to talk him out of coming here. Though, on second thought, that was maybe for the best--he vaguely remembered Rex mentioning to--someone; he was having trouble sorting through much of anything after his duel with Specter with any kind of clarity, at least up until the point where he’d woken up in that clinic, mostly lucid except for the drugs. And the fever. Which was--maybe higher now? Or maybe that was just from the heat outside; how long had he been out?

The point was, he _thought_ Rex had mentioned hypothermia, and it made sense, since he’d been left exposed on the icy mountain for a while. Which wasn’t Rex’s fault, of course, since he’d had to climb down to where Anakin had fallen and then figure out how to carry him safely back up the sheer cliff, it was just--a thing, that had happened, making everything worse. But, anyway, probably the last thing he needed right now was another temperature-related shock, so it was good the water wasn’t too cold. Or--something.

 _Focus._ He pulled his scattered thoughts together as best he could, and handed Leia back the empty cup. He noticed that it wasn’t exactly steady, but he wasn’t totally sure if he was shaking or if that was just the way the room was spinning.

 _Say something._ “Sorry about earlier,” he said. Because Leia would probably be upset if he let himself drift and talking helped him stay alert. “I didn’t, uh, I _shouldn’t_ have faded out like that.”

She shook her head. “You’re sick.” She gripped the cup a little tighter, and her lower lip trembled just a little bit.

“Hey--” he said, holding out his hand. “C’mere, it’s okay.”

She hesitated half a heartbeat, then scrambled up onto the platform next to him, careful to skirt around his injured leg. Which didn’t stop the pallet under them from shifting, putting different pressure points on the wound. He saw stars for a few seconds, but at least he didn’t pass out again.

“Daddy?”

“S’all right,” he said, blinking rapidly to clear his vision. “I’m all right.”

She didn’t look at all convinced, but she nodded anyway and nestled close, putting her head on his shoulder.

“It’s really gonna be okay, princess,” he promised her. “I’m gonna be fine.”

“Okay,” she said, then took a slightly shaky breath. “Only--only you wouldn’t wake up, and you’ve got a really bad fever, a-and--”

“I’m awake now,” he said. “And--look, I’ve been hurt worse than this before, okay? And I got--I got better then, so I’ll get better now.”

But that was--that was--that was a _bad_ thought to have, because the First Battle of Geonosis _hadn’t_ been worse than this and so he tried to route his brain to Maridun instead which sort of had, with mixed success. Probably because it was--it was the anniversary, and his grip on sort of _everything_ was sort of tenuous right now, and anyway bringing it up didn’t actually seem to comfort her at all, so _why_ was he stupid enough to--

He needed to shake off those ghosts, _fast,_ before they took over completely. Not easy at the best of times, and the stupid kriffing fever wasn’t exactly helping.

Good thing Leia was here, because her presence _was_ helping. Just like always. And he wasn’t about to lose a good chunk of her birthday to--memories. Especially not when he’d already spent way too much of it unconscious.

He took a breath and started to drag himself further upright. “You know, I’m here now, and I’m awake, and--and it’s your birthday, so why don’t we--”

 _“Daddy!”_ She pushed down on his shoulders, and--okay, yeah, it probably wasn’t a good sign that his tiny six-year-old barely had to put any pressure on him at _all_ before he collapsed back. “You’re _sick._ You’re s’posed to stay in bed ‘til your fever goes away. Aunt Beru said.”

And some combination of that _tone_ she used, the one she had right from the beginning, when she picked up on him wallowing in self-pity or thought he was being an idiot; and the way she was _glaring_ at him, and looked so much like--so much like her _mother_ in that moment--

He gave in.

Especially because--well, now that she felt like she was _doing_ something, that seemed to cut through her anxieties more than anything else he’d tried. Which made perfect sense to him. Feeling _helpless_ was--as long as he was _doing_ something, as long as there was something _to_ do, as long as he felt like he was fighting _back_ against whatever was going wrong, it wasn’t that bad. Leia was like him that way.

And he was here for her. So there it was. He’d stay in bed and let her boss him around for a while, if that would make her less upset.

Plus, the room was still sort of wobbly, and _everything_ hurt, and he was starting to get a little nauseous thanks to one or the other.

“All right,” he said. “All right. Uh.” He tried to think of something else to suggest, something to keep his mind from spiraling into a dark place where he _could not_ let her follow, and then remembered--he _should_ have it in his pocket, and...yes, there it was. Leia’s present; he could give it to her now.

Normally, they did this outside--they had a whole ritual about it, where he’d take her out a little bit into the desert, until it was only the two of them and the sands and the sky, and he’d tell her its story. Because he got her the same thing every year, ish--he kept an eye out for wood or stone with interesting patterns on his missions, and then spent his spare moments carving it into a shape that would appeal to her. It helped him feel close to her, when he was away so much, and he thought--he _hoped_ \--it helped her feel less disconnected from him.

This year, about six months ago, he’d been on a planet with dark pink crystalline forests, the trees stretching up hundreds of meters until he couldn’t see the canopy above them. The branches’ cross-sections were pentagonal, so he’d cut off a piece of one that had fallen to the ground, and spent hours smoothing and polishing it, so the corners weren’t so sharp and the imperfections where the heat from his ‘saber had warped it looked decorative, rather than defective.

“All right,” he said again, pulling it out of his pocket while moving as little as possible. “I know this isn’t how we normally do this, princess, but if you won’t let me get up…”

She shot him a _look._

He smiled, took her hand, and carefully placed the crystal in it; it was almost as big as her palm. “Happy birthday, princess.”

She blinked, then really looked at the stone in her hand, and then brightened a little. “Wow,” she said. “It’s _really_ pretty, Daddy.” She snuggled against him again.

“I thought so,” he said, and kissed the top of her head. “I’m glad you like it.”

“Where’s it from?”

“A long, long way away from here,” he said. “Uncle Rex, Uncle Obi-Wan, and I got very, very lost in a forest, while we were looking for...” He trailed off, frowning, the thread of the story slipping out of his grasp, which was ridiculous--he’d had the whole story planned out and rehearsed for _weeks._

 _We were looking for--what_ were _we looking for when we got lost? Okay, think. I remember the way rain sounded like chimes, and the look on Obi-Wan’s face when he fell into that creek right before the shooting started..._

He hadn’t quite gotten it back when the door opened; Beru interrupting them.

“Leia, sweetheart, Uncle Owen needs your help outside.”

Leia looked up at Anakin, then over at Beru, her jaw taking on a _very_ familiar stubborn set.

“Go,” he said, before she could actually start arguing. He didn’t really want to fight with Owen right now. He ran a hand through her hair--it was definitely shaking now; not good. He let it drop back down onto the bed, clenching his fist to make it stop. “I’ll be here; tell you the rest then.”

She looked back at him, now a little conflicted. “Promise?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” She very carefully climbed down again. _“Don’t move,”_ she added severely, when the pain faded and he could focus again. “I’ll be _right back.”_

He nodded, which just made his head spin again. He closed his eyes and waited for it to pass; which it did, after a few seconds, leaving a wave of utter exhaustion behind. Keeping up appearances for Leia must have taken more out of him than he’d thought.

The door opened and shut again, and then he heard Beru approach before feeling her hand resting cool on his forehead. It felt nice, for a moment, before she took it away.

“You feel up to eating something?” she asked softly. “You should probably try.”

That idea did not appeal at _all._ “Maybe later,” he managed. Because she wasn’t wrong--fever burned up a lot of energy, and it would probably help with the dizziness. Assuming he could keep it down, which was not--not a sure thing right now.

“All right,” she said. “Water, though. And this.” She held up a pill bottle to show him. “Fever reducer. Might help with the pain, too, but I don’t think I have anything strong enough to do you any real good there.”

“Yeah,” he said. She handed him the pill, then helped him sit up to drink it down, which hurt--noticeably less than when he’d tried it by himself, at least. He still hissed a little at the movement; had to pause for a second and wait for the room to steady before accepting the water.

“Sorry,” she breathed, and eased him back again.

“S’fine,” he said. A cold trickle of sweat was starting to work its way down his spine; that would hopefully stop once the pill kicked in.

She nodded and sat down next to the bed. “Ani, what are you doing here?” she asked. “You’re supposed to be in a hospital. You _need_ to be in a hospital.”

He--probably should have expected that. He sighed. “I need to be _here,”_ he said. “For Leia. I _promised_ her I would never miss--”

“She’d’ve been upset either way,” Beru pointed out, and he winced a little. Because, yeah, Leia _had_ been very upset; he probably wouldn’t have needed the Force to see how worried she was about him, which wasn’t exactly the _plan,_ he was just--just dizzier than he’d thought he would be, that was all. “So you didn’t have to pick the risky, _stupid_ option,” she went on. “I don’t know if it’s better or worse for her right now, and we’ll probably never figure that out, but for _you--”_

“I’m not--” he interrupted, then caught the look on her face. “I can--I can handle it. I couldn’t--I needed to--be here.”

She sighed. “Because you needed to see her as much as you thought she needed to see you.”

He flinched; that hit--that hit a little too close to the mark, even though he hadn’t seen it until she’d _said_ it. But once she _did,_ it was--inescapable. Because he _had_ needed this--seeing Leia made everything better, seeing her always had, and especially _this week--_ if he focused on his daughter, he couldn’t fixate on everything he’d _lost,_ and that was on a _normal_ year; with everything--with everything about Specter thrown in, too, with the stark, harsh reminder of all the things he’d done and failed to do, of how much _more_ could have been lost--

 _Selfish,_ echoed alongside his too-rapid heartbeat. _All of this is your fault anyway, everything that happened to the Order, the way the Chancellor_ ruined _that kid, it’s all on_ you, _because you let him in, because you couldn’t bring him down when you had the chance, you are a terrible Jedi, failed Chosen One, and you lean on your_ six-year-old child _for comfort what the hell kind of_ father _are you--_

Beru’s hand landed on his and squeezed very gently. _“Anakin,”_ she said, like she’d said it four or five times already. “I didn’t mean that--I wasn’t trying to--I _get it,_ okay? I know I haven’t been through a fraction of the horrible things you have, but when something awful happens, I have the same impulse. Hell, even when it doesn’t happen to me, or Owen, or you, or--when it’s just something I’ve read about. _Especially_ if there are kids involved. To reassure myself that there are still good things in this world, or just that--just that she’s still there and _okay._ That’s _normal,_ Ani.”

He blinked at her, hazily. “But--” he said. “But--but I don’t want--”

“Believe me, if I ever think you’re leaning on her too much, I’ll tell you,” Beru said firmly. “Because that’s not healthy for _either_ of you. Okay?”

And Beru wouldn’t lie to him. Not about that. She loved Leia too much for that. So even if it wasn’t enough to totally kill the guilt--not that anything ever was--and even if his pulse was still racing uncomfortably under his skin, it was enough perspective to slam that kriffing voice back where it belonged.

“Okay,” he said.

“Good,” she said, and squeezed his hand again. “But--look, just because I get why you did it, doesn’t change the fact that this was a _stupid_ thing to do, Ani. You could have _called.”_

“S’not the same,” he said. And it probably sounded weak, and it kind of _was_ a terrible excuse, but it _wasn’t_ the same, and he didn’t think he could explain that to someone--to someone who didn’t have the Force, who couldn’t feel the things he felt. Besides, he _might_ have been more able to hide how he felt over comms, but that was no guarantee that Leia wouldn’t see through him anyway. So what was the _point_ of only calling?

Besides, he’d _promised,_ and that still mattered. If he was going to upset her either way, at least he hadn’t betrayed her trust, too.

“All right,” she said. “Then she could’ve come to you. You could’ve just sent Rex to pick her up.”

No. No, no, no, he could _not_ have done that. Because, for all Leia’s insistence that she was--that she could help, she was still too little, and there were so many risks, so many people who could _see_ her, could make the connection, maybe even track back to Luke and Padme, too, and--

He shook his head rapidly and regretted it when the room kept moving long after his head had stopped. “S’not--not _safe,”_ he forced out through gritted teeth, gripping the blanket so tight he heard his metal hand creaking at the strain, waiting for the vertigo to subside.

“And this was?” she asked.

“For _Leia.”_

“And _how,_ exactly, does risking _your_ health and safety like this protect her?” she shot back.

“I--it’s--I…”

She let that hang in the air for a minute, then softly said, “Look--she did need to see you. Does need to see you. She was watching the horizon all day, waiting for you to come home. I’m not about to pretend that she didn’t. But, Ani, she’s going to need to see you _next_ year, too. And the year after that. And for a long time. So you _have_ to take better care of yourself, okay?”

Which--he wasn’t _dying;_ his fever would be a lot higher if he were actually--actually septic or something and…

And Leia had been _scared._

He looked up at the ceiling, which was wavering in a completely different way now.

She sighed, and reached out to brush his forehead again. “Get some rest, all right? I’ll be close by if you need anything.”

“Okay,” he whispered.

She squeezed his hand one more time, and he shut his eyes, listening to her quietly slip out of the room, leaving him alone.

For a moment, the silence weighed on him and he tried to keep it from swallowing him up, from leaving him with nothing but that murmur of guilt, keeping time with his heartbeat. But with no one to talk to, nothing to distract him, it was--hard.

Until the meds Beru had given him finally kicked in, taking _just_ enough of the edge off that he couldn’t even focus on _that_ anymore; fever and exhaustion winning out and dragging him down into dim, uneasy dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I've mentioned, I know very little about medicine, so please look kindly on any mistakes made there.
> 
> So sorry for the late update; this chapter took longer (and _is_ longer) than I thought it would.  <3
> 
> See you guys next week! (Which will finally involve Obi-Wan and Ahsoka joining them, I promise!)
> 
> ~shadowsong


	43. Part 4, Chapter 15

It was well after local nightfall before Obi-Wan and Ahsoka got to the farm. The house, too, was mostly dark and quiet, but for a dim light flickering out of the kitchen window.

Good--that meant a decent chance nothing  _ else _ had gone wrong in the past few hours. They were expected, at least; he had made contact with Beru shortly after leaving Dr. Naar’s clinic, to confirm that Anakin and Rex had arrived safely, and she’d said she’d wait up.

He tapped twice on the door, and leaned a little against the wall while they waited for Beru to answer. Ahsoka, beside him, bounced a little on the balls of her feet.

“I like this place,” she said after a moment. “It’s...nice. Restful.”

“A haven,” he agreed softly. One he wished he could visit more often. And already, it was starting to work on him, letting him relax a little. Despite that lingering pulse of  _ Anakin-is-hurting-Anakin-is-not-safe _ at the back of his mind.

But Anakin was  _ close, _ at least, and not doing anything  _ else _ he shouldn’t at the moment; Obi-Wan could sense that much. And of all the places he’d run off to and foolish things he had done or tried to do when deciding to ignore reasonable medical restrictions, this was _ far _ from the worst.

Six years ago, as with so many other things, still held  _ that _ particular title.

And then Beru came to the door, forestalling any further conversation or maudlin thoughts. “Oh, good,” she said. “I was starting to get a little worried. Come in.”

“Thank you,” he said, and slipped inside, followed by Ahsoka. Once the door had shut behind them, he added, “Beru, this is Ahsoka Tano. Ahsoka, Anakin’s sister-in-law, Beru.”

“Nice to meet you,” Ahsoka said, with a brief bow.

“You, too,” Beru said, and smiled warmly. “Ani’s told us a lot about you. Sit down, you both look exhausted.” She busied herself about pouring milk for the three of them--quietly, so as not to wake the rest of the house--while Obi-Wan and Ahsoka found seats at the table.

“How is he?” Ahsoka asked, once Beru had joined them; her hands wrapped tight around her cup.

Beru sighed, and set her cup down. “Not great,” she said frankly. “He’s fever’s been pretty steady, at least, since we got him out of the suns, but it’s pretty high. And he’s...hazy, having trouble staying focused. He’s been really dizzy, too, and nauseous, I think, but he hasn’t said anything specific about that. I  _ know _ he’s--he’s in a lot of pain. I don’t have anything strong enough to help much, but I’ve done what I can. For that and the fever, and everything else.”

“Which has probably at least kept things from getting worse,” Obi-Wan pointed out.

“Fair enough,” she said. She picked up her cup again, fidgeting with it for a moment. “I tried to talk some sense into him, a few hours ago. When he was awake and a little less out of it. I  _ think _ I managed to get through to him, at least enough for him to realize just how bad an idea coming here like this was.”

“I’m guessing he’s gonna hear that from all of us, over the next couple of days,” Ahsoka said. “Enough repetition might get the point across.”

‘Might’ being the operative word there, as Obi-Wan knew  _ all too well. _

“Hopefully,” Beru said.

“Yes,” he agreed, then set his glass down. “I should--he’s in his usual room?” Not that he necessarily planned to start on that  _ immediately _ \--it depended on what he saw when he got in there--but...

“Yeah,” she said. “Leia’s in there with him. They were both asleep, last time I checked. About a half-hour ago.”

Good. “Is Rex in there with them?”

She shook her head. “He was camped out outside the room most of the afternoon. Trying to give the two of them private time together, I think, but stay close just in case. I convinced him to go get some sleep himself a couple hours ago.”

Obi-Wan and Ahsoka exchanged a look--not quite as seamless as it would have been if he and Anakin were silently deciding who went where, but fitting back together nicely just the same. Because one or both of them should talk to Rex, too; make sure he knew that no one blamed  _ him _ for this mess.

“I’ll go look in on him,” Ahsoka said, after a beat. Obi-Wan gave her a brief, grateful smile, which she returned before glancing over at Beru. “If that’s all right. See how he’s holding up.”

“Sure,” Beru said. “I’ll show you the way.”

She nodded and smiled again, taking care to hide her pointier teeth. Which, as Obi-Wan remembered well, could be rather alarming when one wasn’t used to them. “Thanks,” she said, standing up and stretching.

Obi-Wan rose as well, and Beru followed suit.

“Through the door on the left,” she told Ahsoka. “I’ll be right behind you. Just want to finish cleaning up in here.”

“Right.” She headed that way.

Obi-Wan started in the other direction, but Beru put a hand on his wrist briefly.

“How are  _ you _ holding up?” she asked softly.  _ Before we forget to ask, _ echoed in her thoughts after.

He considered dodging the question for a moment--there were so many other things to worry about that took precedence--but Beru’s hand was, while gentle, utterly unyielding; matched only by the determination in her eyes as they met his.

He sighed, and looked away. “It’s...been a difficult couple of days,” he said. “But…” He closed his eyes. Anakin’s presence was muted but  _ there; _ making it easier to shake off the nightmare scenarios he’d been pondering on the way here. And the ghosts of the  _ Tantive, _ and Polis Massa, six years ago, when he hadn’t even--in those first few hours, he’d barely even had  _ that. _

In this warm, lived-in kitchen, this  _ haven, _ with all the love and kindness a family could build up over the years soaked into the very walls, it all seemed as far away as it ever did. Despite the dire circumstances, and the time of year.

“I’m all right,” he finished. “In the moment, at least.”

“All right,” she said, and squeezed his hand briefly before heading off after Ahsoka.

He waited until she was gone, to give himself a moment to recenter and brace for what he might find, then headed through the other door and slipped noiselessly down the hall, straight for Anakin’s room.

Just as Beru had said, Leia was fast asleep in a chair at the foot of the bed. Or she had been, anyway; she stirred a little when the door slid open, blinking blearily up at Obi-Wan.

He held a finger to his lips, and she glanced over at the bed and nodded, before uncurling enough to hold out her arms for a hug. Which, of course, he was more than happy to provide.

“Glad you’re here,” she mumbled, half-asleep again already.

“Me, too,” he murmured back, then kissed the top of her head and let go. “Back to sleep now, little one.”

She nodded and yawned, settling back into the chair. He smiled softly and pulled off his cloak to drape over her--more for emotional comfort than anything else. She snuggled into it and, moments later, was completely out.

He adjusted the fall of the cloak over her shoulder, then turned to check on her father.

Anakin was sleeping, too, if nowhere near as peaceful as Leia was; caught up in shallow, fitful fever-dreams. Perhaps not quite bad enough to be called true nightmares, but certainly unpleasant; the Force was unsettled around him in response to his distress. He was very pale, face pinched with pain even in sleep. His hands were twisted up in the blankets, and there was a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead.

Obi-Wan reached out and rested a hand on Anakin’s forehead for a moment, frowning a little internally at how warm he was. True, he wasn’t sure how high it had been before, and Beru  _ had _ said it had been high but consistent, not spiking. Still, that was something Dr. Naar had specifically said to look out for.

So, better not to wake him just yet. Right now, he clearly needed the rest more than a lecture on his failure to consider the consequences of his actions, not to mention his utter lack of a sense of self-preservation. Oh, it would have to happen before they were actually on their way back to Dr. Naar, of course, but there were a few hours yet before they were to leave.

With that in mind, he closed his eyes briefly, sending what strength he could along their bond; to at least dampen the pain a little; ease the stress it put on Anakin’s body and help him fight the infection off. Not  _ quite  _ a Force-backed suggestion to stay asleep, just making him a little less uncomfortable so he would sleep better on his own. And, while healing had never been Obi-Wan’s greatest strength, it did seem to help somewhat; the pulsing waves of discomfort in the Force around them had quieted, though not entirely stilled.

It was a technique he could perform even when half-asleep or more, easing Anakin’s physical pain or nightmares; one he’d unfortunately developed as well as he ever could back during the war.

He sighed faintly, withdrawing his hand, pulled another chair up to the side of the bed with a gesture, and sank into it.

_ Oh, Anakin, _ he thought.  _ I wish this all wasn’t so familiar. I wish you wouldn’t... _

He wasn’t entirely sure how best to complete the thought; but, as if in some kind of response to it, the pattern to Anakin’s breathing shifted, and his eyelids fluttered a little bit.

“M-master?” he said, a little hoarsely.

“Shh, shh, easy; it’s all right,” he said, putting a restraining hand on Anakin’s shoulder before he could even  _ think _ to try and get up. “Yes, I’m here. Go back to sleep.”

“No, m’awake now,” he said, his eyes opening all the way; a little glassy. He blinked a few times, then frowned. “What--what happened to your arm?”

Of  _ course _ that would be the first thing he noticed; despite his own,  _ far _ more serious injury. “Dislocated shoulder, that’s all,” he said. “Nothing to worry about. How are you feeling?”

Anakin didn’t answer right away. After a moment, he sighed faintly and admitted, “I’ve--I’ve had better days.”

“I can imagine,” he said, then paused, and added, “You left the clinic.” There was no sense in putting it off, since Anakin was awake anyway.

He nodded, and closed his eyes. “I--I know it wasn’t...wasn’t the brightest move I’ve ever made.”

Well. That was--better, less defensive, than he’d expected. A pleasant surprise; Beru must have gotten through to Anakin after all.

“But I  _ needed _ to.”

Ah. Perhaps not. Still, this was a step or two better than usual.

Obi-Wan sighed. “You and I,” he said, “have a  _ very different idea _ of what constitutes necessity, my friend.”

Because he would absolutely admit that there  _ were _ times when medical advice and common sense had to be set aside, but those circumstances generally involved someone shooting at him or someone under his protection, or other actual, imminent  _ danger. _ Such had been the case at Geonosis, the second time, which Anakin  _ always _ brought up. Besides, Obi-Wan had been unable to evacuate and seek care, and had  _ stayed put _ and done everything he feasibly could to avoid damaging himself further until the droids were on top of them and it was either that or get shot and killed anyway.

“I know. And...and yours is...but I just…” Anakin glanced over at Leia, then sighed and drew the blanket a little tighter around his shoulders. “I  _ needed _ to. Even if--even if it was a bad idea.”

“I know how important she is to you, Anakin,” he said quietly. “And that--and that our mission keeps you away far more than either of you deserve. But you  _ cannot  _ do this again. Forgetting, for the moment, the fact that being so far away from appropriate medical care and supervision has substantially increased the risk of complications, let alone the impact of the ones you were already experiencing. And leaving aside the potential damage stopping and starting treatment like this could cause, and the fact you  _ should _ have been resting, and not spending energy you badly needed for healing on--on flight instead…all of that aside, you could have--”

He broke off and closed his eyes, trying to think of which of the endless stream of nightmare scenarios he’d considered was least likely to send Anakin into a paralyzing spiral of guilt. He was, Obi-Wan believed, close to the edge of one as it was.

“What if you had--if one of the patches on the  _ Waterfall _ had failed, or something else had gone wrong, and you’d ended up stranded?” he finally asked.  _ What if you had gotten separated from Rex somehow, and collapsed along the way with  _ no one _ to help you?  _ “I don’t know how long it would...it would take me to  _ find _ you, if that happened.”

“I’m sorry,” Anakin said, after a long moment. “I didn’t--didn’t mean to make you worry like that.” He was hunched over, curled in on himself, and trembling a little bit.

He sighed. “I know you didn’t,” he said.  _ And yet. _

But it was late, and Anakin was ill. Obi-Wan had made his point, or at least the beginnings of it.

“Will you at least promise me to  _ behave _ until the doctor clears you? Which means listening to him and  _ staying there, _ barring the clinic actually being attacked or similar immediate danger?”

Of course, that wouldn’t solve the problem completely. And perhaps Obi-Wan was backing down sooner than he should, but--Anakin was alive, and at least  _ stable, _ which was such a  _ profound  _ relief, in the wake of the heightened tension of the past few hours, that a part of him was inclined to just...be relieved, and didn’t particularly  _ want _ to push the point anymore.

Besides, he didn’t want to wake Leia, which might well happen if they continued their discussion then and there.

“I’ll be good,” Anakin said. “Promise.”

“All right.” And, having secured that promise, he told himself that was enough for now. Especially since they were both tired and stressed; and while the dull ache in Obi-Wan’s shoulder was nothing compared to the pain still leaking out from behind Anakin’s shields...it would just become something far uglier than it needed to be. They could revisit the subject when Anakin was a little less drained, and when Obi-Wan had a little more confidence that the probable shouting match wouldn't stress his brother to the point where it might do actual damage, and impede his recovery even further.

Which was  _ probably _ nothing but paranoia on his part, but between how much physical distress he was picking up from Anakin, and Dr. Naar’s warnings, still fresh in the back of his mind, he would rather not take the risk.

“All right,” Anakin echoed, and closed his eyes again. For a moment, they sat there in a somewhat drained but mostly-comfortable silence, Leia’s quiet breathing from her corner the only sound in the room, then Anakin cleared his throat and asked, “When--when are we leaving?”

“In a few hours,” he said. “Around first dawn.” They couldn’t approach the clinic until after its local dark anyway, and this was a safer place to wait out the extra hours outside of travel time. Besides, early morning, before it got too hot, was probably the best and safest time to move Anakin.

“Mm,” he said. “We...we got the keys. Rex and me. Did I--did anyone mention that yet?”

_ The--oh, right. _ Obi-Wan had nearly forgotten the mission that Anakin and Rex had been on before Specter had--

“No, you hadn’t,” he said. “I’ll pass them along.” He paused, then added, “I’ve--reached out to Senator Organa already. We haven’t spoken directly yet and I didn’t give him too many details; I wanted to see you first.”

Anakin blinked, confused for a moment, then drew in a quick, sharp breath as comprehension dawned. “...oh,” he said, staring down at his right hand and flexing it slowly. “S’probably faster than me building one, I guess.”

“Yes,” he said. If only because maintaining his arm was entirely different from building a new leg from scratch, which would require much more detailed knowledge of how to smoothly and safely integrate the machine parts with organic neurons. As such interfaces were one of the few related areas where Anakin  _ lacked _ the needed expertise, that process would probably involve a fair amount of experimentation and trial and error. Once they’d managed to source some of the more delicate, specialized parts, which would be potentially even more difficult than the entire thing. And a new prosthetic was not something Obi-Wan would be willing to risk improvised substitutions in, and he doubted Anakin would be, either.

True, in the long run, the end result of Anakin’s invention might well be better, but in the meantime...at best, it would be a long and frustrating process, and Anakin would be sidelined--well, he would be sidelined as long as he needed to be to heal  _ properly, _ regardless, but it would be longer, with a correspondingly greater loss of momentum and opportunities in their fight against the Empire.

At  _ worst, _ he might actually hurt himself if one of his attempts went particularly wrong when he tried to attach it. Better to go through their friends on Coruscant, and try to get a prosthetic already expertly made.

And if Bail couldn’t help them find one--Hondo might be an option, though Obi-Wan didn’t entirely trust his sources. Dr. Naar hadn’t appeared to have what they needed on hand, but maybe he knew reputable suppliers. Although,  _ that _ might draw unwanted attention, to both the clinic and to Anakin himself, so perhaps not.

Well, Bail would most likely come through, anyway. They  _ could _ make it work if not, but none of the alternatives were very good ones.

Anakin was quiet for a long moment, then said, “It’s...it’s really gone, isn’t it.” Like it had all come crashing down on him and finally felt  _ real _ in that moment.

“Yes,” he said again; because what else could he say? “I’m so sorry.”

He drew in a deep, shaky breath, and held his trembling left hand a few inches over the stump for a moment, not quite touching, before letting it fall to one side and closing his eyes.

“I’m gonna run out eventually,” he muttered.

“What?”

“Maybe--maybe before the Chancellor runs out of apprentices.”

Obi-Wan’s heart sank. Anakin sounded equal parts resigned, despairing, and worried; almost as if--as if that was one more way he might, as he saw it, fail in his duty; as if it were the price he had to pay. A required exchange, for…

“Oh, Anakin…” he said. “It--”  _ It doesn’t work like that, _ was what he meant to say.

Anakin’s eyes snapped open. “Did--did I say that--I’m sorry,” he blurted, before Obi-Wan could finish. “Sorry, don’t--it’s--forget I said anything.”

“No, Anakin,” he said gently, taking his hand. Partly to offer comfort, partly to take it himself; partly to monitor Anakin’s too-rapid pulse a little more closely.

He flinched a little, curling in on himself again, but didn’t pull away.

“Anakin, look at me, all right?” he said. “I can’t--I can’t promise something like that  _ won’t _ happen.” Because, as much as the idea horrified him, there  _ was _ an outside that Anakin would be...would be seriously injured by the next apprentice. Not to mention the far greater danger when they finally faced Palpatine himself. “But I find it  _ highly _ unlikely. You are strong and wise and remarkably skilled, and two incidents, no matter how profound, are  _ not _ enough to make a pattern. Certainly not one set in stone. Besides, consider all the times you faced Dooku--or even Ventress-- _ without _ being so...so badly hurt.”

Anakin was quiet for a long moment, thinking that over. “I guess,” he said. Not entirely convinced, clearly, but his pulse and breathing were a little more even now.

“And if it...if it does…” He closed his eyes against the mental image of Anakin in that much pain, with half of him hacked away. “If it does, we will deal with it. I will help you, in any way I can. I promise.”

“Okay,” he said, and gave Obi-Wan’s hand a flickering squeeze. “Okay. Thank you.”

He definitely seemed calmer now, at least; but he was trembling again--almost like…

Obi-Wan frowned, extracted his free hand from its sling with care, and brushed Anakin’s forehead.

“You’re warmer,” he said, phantom worries of Anakin with even fewer limbs immediately replaced by worries about his very real and present infection.

“Sorry,” he said.

“Shh, it’s all right.” He pulled back and let go of Anakin’s hand.

Anakin caught his wrist as he stood. “Don’t--I don’t--I don’t want to be alone?”

“I’ll be right back,” he said. “We’ve got to keep your fever down. I’m just going to check with Beru about what to give you.”

“But--” Anakin hesitated for a moment, and Obi-Wan took the opportunity to gently pry his hand off and set it down on the bed.

“Why don’t you keep an eye on Leia, until I get back?” he suggested. She hadn’t moved or shown any signs of waking again since he’d given her his cloak, but that would keep Anakin occupied for a little while anyway, and remind him that he  _ wasn’t _ alone while Obi-Wan was gone, when pointing it out directly would have come across as dismissive.

“...okay,” he said.

“Good,” he said. “I’ll be right back.” He headed out the door before Anakin could marshall another protest, following the faint thread of Beru’s presence back to the kitchen. Hopefully, it wasn’t too soon for another dose of whatever she’d been giving him; if not, it should help. It  _ would _ help. It probably had been so far.

And in a few hours, they would be on their way back to Dr. Naar, and Anakin would get the full treatment he actually needed.

_ He’ll be all right, _ Obi-Wan told himself.  _ He’s not doing anywhere near as badly as I thought he would be already. And in a matter of hours, everything will be back on track. _

It probably wouldn’t make the next few hours any less stressful, but that light at the end of the scenario, the dim positive end to this detour, would sustain him along the way.

As long as it did the same for Anakin, he could make it through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is a chapter that's been building for a long while. Hopefully it doesn't disappoint <3
> 
> Also, the bonus I mentioned a couple weeks ago is up on [my writing tumblr](https://shadowsong26fic.tumblr.com/post/164462909127/precipice-bonus-fic), if you want to check it out!
> 
> ~shadowsong


	44. Part 4, Chapter 16

It was still dark out when Leia woke all the way up. She’d _sort of_ woke up a couple times before that, maybe--or, at least, she kind of remembered when Uncle Obi-Wan came in, and she still had his cloak so that had probably happened; and she _kind of_ remembered Aunt Beru coming in and getting Daddy to sit up and swallow something a little bit after that.

Other than that, she’d mostly been dreaming about the silver planet again. In her dreams, she’d been worried about--something, she couldn’t tell what. And she’d been _planning_ something, maybe, but it was all slipping away now that she was awake and she couldn’t _remember._

It had been important, too, she was pretty sure. She’d been trying to--to go somewhere, to _help_ someone, only…

Nope. It was all gone, like sand slipping through her fingers. Which was really, _really_ annoying.

Well. Like it or not, she was all the way awake now, and the silver planet dream wasn’t coming back. If it really _was_ that important, she’d probably have the dream again and _then_ she’d go help whoever it was. She couldn’t do anything else about it right now, so she might as well just get up and find something she _could_ do right here.

She made a face and wriggled out from under Uncle Obi-Wan’s cloak. He was still there, slouched and sleeping in the other chair next to Daddy’s bed. She collected the cloak from the chair, bunching it up careful so she wouldn’t trip over it, and tiptoed across the room to give it back without waking either of them up.

Daddy did move a little bit when she got close, face crinkling like he was hurting or maybe having a bad dream. She went very still and held her breath for a minute, but he settled after a couple seconds.

Once she was sure he was all the way back asleep, she crept out of the room, heading for the kitchen. Probably Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru were still asleep, but she could at least get herself some milk and then figure out what she should do next. When she got a little closer, she could hear soft voices drifting down the hall. One was Uncle Rex, who sounded a _lot_ less sad and scared than he had been last night (good). The other--

She didn’t recognize the other. A woman’s voice, but not Aunt Beru.

Leia paused for a second. Uncle Rex wasn’t upset, and the stranger lady sounded--nice. Dangerous, but the _good_ kind of dangerous, like Daddy and Uncle Obi-Wan. Dangerous that was _hers,_ on her side.

So, this wasn’t a bad thing. Just surprised her a little, ‘cause it was kind of weird. Strange people didn’t come over much, and when they did, they didn’t usually sit and talk with one of her uncles at the kitchen table before dawn.

She shook her head and kept going, still moving quiet so she wouldn’t wake anyone else up.

The two of them stopped talking when Leia came into the kitchen. She sighed inside her head. She really, _really_ didn’t like it when grown ups did that. But she’d learned a long, long time ago there wasn’t really a lot she could _do_ about it, other than get mad at them and maybe go sulk for a while. And she did that sometimes, ‘cause sometimes it made her feel better, but it was a bad idea right now. It was _way_ too early and fighting might wake Uncle Owen or Aunt Beru--or _Daddy._

Plus, if she got mad and sulked, she wouldn’t find out who this new person is, or why Uncle Obi-Wan trusted her enough to bring her here. Leia figured she’d _probably_ gotten here with him, since she hadn’t been with Daddy and Uncle Rex and no one else had come last night.

The stranger turned out to be a tall, pretty alien lady with orange skin. She had headtails, sort of like a Twi’lek, but not exactly. Plus, Twi’lek didn’t have cones on top of their heads like she did. Leia was _pretty_ sure she was a Togruta, but she’d never met one in person before.

More important, though, the stranger had _lightsabers,_ like Daddy and Uncle Obi-Wan, only she had _two_ of them. Which meant she was probably--

“Morning, _ad’ika,”_ Uncle Rex said softly, interrupting Leia’s thoughts.

“Hi,” she said, weaving past him and dragging a chair over to the counter so she could reach it and get her milk.

Uncle Rex watched her, ready to help if she needed it or catch her if she fell off, but let her pour for herself. Once he was satisfied she had everything under control, he glanced over at the stranger, and said, “I’m not sure you two met last night.”

Leia shook her head.

“I think you were already asleep when Obi-Wan and I got in,” she said. “I’m Ahsoka Tano, I’m an old friend of your dad’s. And you’re Leia, right?”

Just like she’d guessed, which made her happy. Leia liked being right. Plus, it made sense, ‘cause who _else_ would Uncle Obi-Wan bring here?

She nodded. “Hi,” she said. “Daddy talks about you lots.”

“Oh, yeah?” she said, and grinned, showing pointy teeth. “Only the good parts, I hope. The ones that make me look cool.”

Leia rolled her eyes, but she kind of thought he did. Because Daddy mostly told stories about Miss Ahsoka when he was happy and wanted to stay that way. It was _especially_ fun when Uncle Obi-Wan was there and he’d get that _look_ on his face, and interrupt to say Daddy was wrong about something, or exaggerating, and then they’d start arguing about how it had _really_ happened.

She sort of wondered how Miss Ahsoka would talk about some of their adventures. If she’d think Daddy was right, or Uncle Obi-Wan. Or if they were _both_ wrong.

“I bet you could tell me lots of stories about him,” she offered. “And Uncle Obi-Wan.”

Miss Ahsoka laughed. “Yep. All _kinds_ of stories.”

And, based on the look on her face, they were _really really good ones,_ too.

She smiled back and climbed down off the chair, joining Miss Ahsoka and Uncle Rex at the table instead. “Like what?”

Uncle Rex nudged Miss Ahsoka a little. “Remember that she’s _six,_ Commander,” he said.

Which meant cutting out all the really scary parts, probably. Daddy did that, too; he would stop in the middle of a sentence, like he just realized it, and awkwardly skip ahead. She’d be mad about it if he didn’t add those bits back in when he told her the stories again sometimes. Little by little.

“Yeah, I know,” Miss Ahsoka said. “I’ll be good.” She pondered for a minute. “...I could tell you about Christophsis, where we all first met--” She paused, glancing briefly up at the chrono on the wall, and frowned. “Except that one’s kind of long. Have you heard it before?”

“No.” Daddy actually _had_ told her that story, but she still wanted to hear Miss Ahsoka’s version. “We probably have time?” Because they might get interrupted when other people came in, but that didn’t really matter. Did it? ...what exactly did Daddy leave _out?_

Miss Ahsoka shook her head. “I think we’re heading out pretty soon. Once Obi-Wan’s up. But I’ll make it up to you soon, I promise. I’ll be around a lot from now on. We’ll have plenty of time for me to tell you all those stories.”

Well, that last part was good, at least--even if Leia mostly only knew Miss Ahsoka from Daddy’s stories and about five minutes this morning, she was _really cool._ Leia had already decided she liked her.

But they just _got_ here. And Uncle Obi-Wan wouldn’t leave Daddy when he was hurt like this, _especially_ not that quick. So maybe it was just Uncle Rex and Miss Ahsoka going somewhere, and they wanted to say goodbye to him first, but…

“Where are you going?” she asked.

Uncle Rex and Miss Ahsoka exchanged a quick look, and then he answered for her. “We’re going to take your dad to the doctor.”

“Oh,” Leia said. That made sense. And she was _extra_ glad she’d decided to be nice and not get mad or sulk about them getting all quiet around her and keeping secrets, ‘cause she was pretty sure she was gonna have to argue really hard now to make them take her with them. It would be a lot easier if they thought she was acting like a grownup and weren’t mad at _her._ “Okay. Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru will prob’ly be up soon, so I can tell ‘em so they won’t worry.”

The two grownups exchanged another long, long look. Miss Ahsoka shrugged a little, and Uncle Rex sighed.

“We’ll...have to check with General Kenobi about that, _ad’ika,”_ he said.

 _Be smart,_ she told herself. _You can do this._ “Why?” she asked. “I won’t be in the way. The doctor’s way, I mean. And I can help keep Daddy busy so he doesn’t do anything dumb or try to get up again.”

Miss Ahsoka choked a little on her caf. Uncle Rex looked a little pained.

“I’m sure you could,” he said. “But it’s safer for you here.”

“Except you’re not going to go shoot at bad guys this time,” she said. “You’re not going someplace scary.” ‘Cause Daddy was hurt bad, and he had a fever, and he didn’t have--he didn’t have a _leg,_ so they _couldn’t_ go somewhere not safe with him.

“No,” he admitted. “But they’re more likely to find us there, or on the way there, or on the way _back,_ than here. And right now, they don’t know anything about you, or how to find you. But once we start taking you with us, they might find out. And I think your dad doesn’t want that to happen for another couple of years.”

Which she’d heard a million times before. Because she was too little, and she couldn’t help them fight yet, and the bad guys might want to hurt her if they found her, ‘cause that was a good way to hurt Daddy.

But she didn’t _care_ about that right now. “But--” she started, then took a deep breath so she wouldn’t sound whiny and make them say no. “But this time I can help. And I’m _really good_ at hiding. I’ll be real careful, I _promise._ And--and if you _really_ thought it was gonna be bad like that, you wouldn’t take Daddy there.” _That_ was her real issue, because it was _true._ They’d figure out a way to bring the doctor _here,_ or someplace else that was safe, instead.

Rex and Miss Ahsoka looked at one another again.

“You’re not totally wrong,” Miss Ahsoka said, after a minute. “It’s not a _big_ risk.” Leia brightened and started to answer, but she held up a hand to stop her. _“But--_ it _is_ still a risk, enough that I don’t think your dad will want us to take it. Because something bad _could_ happen. You staying here isn’t the _only_ way to prevent it, but it _is_ the easiest, and the most sure. Does that make sense?”

“I guess,” she said. Uncle Owen had said something like that before, that sometimes you plan for the worst thing that could happen; for the harvest not coming in or the farm getting attacked or something. Even if it _probably_ won’t happen, ‘cause if it does, and you _are_ ready, then you don’t lose _everything._ And most of the time, you don’t lose anything except time by Being Ready.

Except...except this time she _did_ lose something.

“But…” she tried, “but if it’s _not_ a big risk…I wanna come. I wanna _help._ And...” _And I wanna be_ sure _Daddy’s okay._

“I know,” she said, and glanced over at Uncle Rex and shrugged again. Leia got the feeling that _she,_ at least, was more on Leia’s side, but didn’t think it was her choice to really make.

“We can ask General Kenobi, see what he says,” he said, after a moment.

“Ask me what?”

Leia blinked and turned--she hadn’t heard Uncle Obi-Wan getting up. “Hi,” she said.

He smiled briefly at her. “Good morning, little one.” He ruffled her hair as he passed, on his way across the room to get some caf from Miss Ahsoka.

“Leia wants to come with us,” she said, passing him a cup.

“Ah.” He considered for a moment. “I’m sure Ahsoka and Rex have already told you all the reasons why it’s a bad idea.”

Which could mean _anything._ She couldn’t tell at all what he was thinking, so she just nodded. “I’ll be good. I’ll do _exactly_ what you say, I’ll hide, I’ll run. Please?”

He was quiet for another moment, thinking. Leia held her breath and crossed her fingers. He hadn’t said no right away, so maybe…

“All right. I will run it by your father, and see how he reacts. If he agrees, you can come.”

She could hardly believe it, but she could _feel_ herself brightening already anyway. “Really?”

 _“If_ your father agrees,” he reminded her. “And he might not. Not because he doesn’t want you there, but…”

“Because he thinks it’s too dangerous,” she said.

“Exactly. And if he says no, that’s the end of it, all right?”

“Okay.” Because it wasn’t a good idea to upset him if they didn’t have to right now. Until he was feeling better.

“All right. Good.” He looked down into his cup, frowning a little, then sighed. “We should wake him before we move, anyway. So he knows what’s going on and doesn’t get any more...disoriented. I’ll ask him then. How are we looking for time?”

“We’re in the window,” Miss Ahsoka said.

He nodded and stood up. “Right. Leia, I’ll come get you once I get an answer from him, all right?”

So she could either get her things and tell Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru she was going or...or say goodbye. “Yeah.” She hesitated a minute. “And...if Daddy says no, you’ll come back soon, right?”

“Yes,” he said. “I promise. As soon as the doctor releases him, I will make sure he comes right back here.”

“Okay,” she said again, and hopped down off her chair to hug him, tight.

He hugged her back briefly. “Why don’t you go get dressed, and see if Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru are up? And make sure _they_ agree to you coming along as well.”

“I will,” she said, and let go. _That_ part wouldn’t be hard, at least. Well, Uncle Owen probably wouldn’t be happy about it, but she sort of thought Aunt Beru would _expect_ something like that. And if Aunt Beru was on her side, Uncle Owen would say yes, too. And then she’d be _doing_ something. She’d be helping. And she could make it up to Uncle Owen once Daddy was okay and she came home.

So as long as Uncle Obi-Wan got Daddy to agree, everything was gonna be okay.

 

* * *

 

Anakin came back to consciousness slowly, dragging himself up out of red-tinged, shadowy dreams of caves and crevices, of being off-balance and in pain. It took a minute for him to realize he was actually awake; but Obi-Wan’s hand was resting on his, warm and solid and _there,_ even if his brain and the room were still fuzzy and indistinct.

“Mmm…?”

“Good morning,” Obi-Wan said quietly. “Feeling any better?”

“Sure,” he said. “Time’s it?”

“Almost dawn. We’re leaving soon, that’ll put us back at Dr. Naar’s after local dark.”

“Okay.” He blinked a couple times to try and push aside the grogginess. Didn’t much help, but he was tracking the conversation a little better. “Is...s’Leia up? I wanna say goodbye.”

“She is.” He paused. “She wants to come with us.”

He felt his heartbeat jerk faster, and the world around him became much sharper and clearer. Adrenaline did a _nice_ job of pushing away that fog. “No. Not safe.”

Beru had suggested the same thing, he remembered. As a better option than him coming to the farm like he had, sure, but she’d still said. He hadn’t liked it _then,_ either, and--

“It should be,” he said. “Or, not significantly less safe than her staying here, I don’t think. Otherwise, we wouldn’t risk moving _you_ right now, either. And I think being left waiting, not knowing anything, would upset her. She...she needs to be _sure_ you’re all right.”

He wasn’t sure he could argue with that. Especially since--Beru had been right, turning up on Leia’s doorstep like this had been...had been selfish, had only upset her.

He squeezed his eyes shut to squelch the guilt again. This _might_ fix that, except--except it was _dangerous._

“I don’t--I don’t know,” he said. “It’s...what if...she could be seen, she could…”

“Perhaps,” Obi-Wan said. “And it is your decision. But I think we can keep the risk to an acceptable level, and it will do both of you good to stay together right now.”

He wasn’t sure about that. But the idea was coming from _Obi-Wan_ this time, and he had a better idea of the risks than Beru did. And he would _never_ risk Leia’s safety if he didn’t have to. And--okay, Anakin knew wasn’t exactly at his sharpest right now--the disorientation from the fever came and went in waves, but he was foggy even when it was at its lowest--so Obi-Wan’s judgment was probably better than his right now.

_To be fair, it almost always is, anyway._

“I…” He pulled the blanket closer. For comfort--he wasn’t cold; which was good, because the only way _that_ would happen here would be if his fever was spiking again. And he _did_ feel better when Leia was around, and Obi-Wan was probably right that being kept out of the loop would be _awful_ for her. But...maybe that was being selfish again, just like coming here. And actually risking her _safety_ this time.

Or maybe he was being paranoid. And he knew all too well where _that_ road led.

But if he _wasn’t,_ if he was wrong…

But Obi-Wan thought this was a good idea. Or at least not a terrible one. And he _trusted_ Obi-Wan. Always.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay, she can--she can come. But...but if things _do_ go wrong, you get _her_ out first. Okay?”

“We’ll keep her safe,” Obi-Wan promised.

“Okay,” he said, and then frowned. “Wait--wait, how long…?” Because if she was coming, if she disappeared from her home for too long...

 _“You_ will be there long as you need to be,” he said firmly. “Unless something goes terribly wrong and we _have_ to move you. But we’ll probably send Leia home after a couple of days, either way.”

Right. Because by then, she’d have calmed down, hopefully. She’d be less--less worried about him. Maybe. He hoped. “Okay,” he said again, and sank back, letting his eyes slide closed.

Obi-Wan put a hand on his shoulder. “We’re going to get moving in a few minutes. Do you want me to try to put you under, or do you want to stay awake?”

Which meant a sleep suggestion, which at least didn’t leave him feeling _weird_ like chemical sedatives did, but he still didn’t like not being able to wake up on his own. And, sure, there was a chance he’d pass out anyway--a pretty good chance, given the way his leg was burning and the room was spinning even when he was lying still--but he didn’t want to lose that control. Or miss any more time with Leia if he could avoid it. Especially since they were only _bringing_ her so she could see that he was okay.

“Stay...stay awake,” he decided.

“All right,” he said. “Get some rest, gather your strength. Rex and Ahsoka will come and get you when everything else is ready.”

“Yeah,” he said. Obi-Wan’s hand withdrew and he heard him leave the room.

 _I’m making the right call,_ he told himself. _This isn’t--this isn’t stupid, or reckless, or_ selfish, _or Obi-Wan wouldn’t have suggested it. And Leia will--Leia will be fine._

And then, after the fourth or fifth time he repeated it to himself, a sudden moment of clarity struck him. Leia was _very much_ his daughter, and she had tried to sneak along and _follow_ him off-planet before, with a _lot_ less reason than she had today. And if _he’d_ been in her position right now…

 _I’m_ definitely _making the right call,_ he thought. _Because if Obi-Wan and Rex and Ahsoka are focused on--are focused on me, they might not notice her following them. Better for us to_ know _where she is._

Now reassured on that, he felt himself relaxing, and fell into a shallow doze while he waited for the others to come.

 

* * *

 

About two hours after dark, somewhat later than expected, the Jedi turned up at Dr. Naar’s back door.

“Come in,” he said, quietly; glad he’d decided to wait a little bit longer before figuring they’d been delayed and going home for the night.

“Thank you,” Ahsoka said, just as softly. With the help of their other human companion, she eased Skywalker in through the door. Kenobi was half a step behind, still wearing his sling as he was supposed to, and leading along--

Naar blinked. The little girl was entirely unexpected.

“She isn’t here,” Kenobi said softly.

_...I’m fairly sure I don’t want to know._

“All right,” he said. “Keep her out here while I examine him?” Because small children should, if at all possible, _not_ have to look at badly infected wounds.

“Of course," he said, squeezing the girl’s hand to cut off any protest on her end.

Naar nodded, and went after the others.

Skywalker was settled back on the pallet they’d set up the first time, in the back storeroom. He was actually mostly conscious, if not particularly alert. Trembling with fever and fatigue, his breathing coming too rapid and shallow--his pulse would almost certainly match.

But not _quite_ as bad as he’d feared.

_At least on the surface. We’ll know better when we look a little closer._

He arched an eyebrow at Ahsoka and her friend.

She nodded, and touched his arm. “C’mon, Rex.”

“I’ll let you know when I’ve finished here,” Naar told them.

“Thanks,” she said, and the two of them slipped out, leaving him alone with his patient.

Naar considered for a moment, but decided not to lecture Skywalker on how _stupid_ he’d been. He’d probably been getting that from all sides, and more of it was likely to just make him belligerent and defensive. Not exactly conducive to healing.

He sighed. “Your friends told me you’re going to stay put this time,” he said instead.

“Yeah,” Skywalker said. “Unless _they_ think I have to run.”

Which was probably the best he could hope for. He had his doubts as to how well Skywalker would hold to that once he had made significant progress towards recovery, but it would keep him where he belonged for a while, probably. At least until the fever broke, he guessed, maybe a little longer.

He nodded. “I’ll trust that, until you give me a reason not to,” he said. “But I _will_ sedate you if I have to.”

Skywalker sighed, and closed his eyes. “Fine.”

“All right, then,” he said, and turned to gather his gloves and his tools, then set to carefully unraveling the dressing on Skywalker’s stump to see how much damage had been done.


	45. Part 4, Chapter 17

After that first, explosive message, Bail had heard nothing from Obi-Wan or anyone else for nearly a full standard day. He had restrained himself from sending more than two follow up questions--one immediately after, and another twelve hours later--because the more often they used their secure channel, the likelier it was to be compromised.

The response, when it finally came, was not particularly detailed. Still, it at least confirmed that both Jedi were alive and, for the moment, as safe as they ever were these days, but that Anakin had been badly hurt. It failed to specify exactly _how--_ probably, or so Bail assumed, for the same reason he’d kept his requests for clarification to the bare minimum. More details meant more data, which meant a greater risk to their encryptions.

And Bail understood that, of course. From a practical, security standpoint, Obi-Wan was making the best decision he could. He knew that. But that didn’t make all of the unanswered questions any easier to live with. Even for him. He kept...remembering...the wet _thunk_ when Anakin had landed in his speeder outside the burning Temple; kept remembering listening to that awful, unsteady breathing; kept remembering the fear, all the way to the spaceport and off of Coruscant itself, that it would _stop._

And if it was that hard for _him..._

Bail was absolutely convinced that, if Padme had had any idea where her husband was right now, she would be _gone._ As it was, she had recalled Sabe from Naboo, for additional comfort or protection or both, and was keeping to her apartment as much as possible, sending Dorme in her place anywhere she couldn’t make an excuse or simply not turn up. Nothing--yet--had appeared on her schedule that absolutely needed _her,_ and not a decoy, but the longer this went on…

And then there was _another_ day of anxious silence after that confirmation before they heard from Obi-Wan again.

Bail checked the emergency comm constantly over that day, whenever he thought he wouldn’t be seen doing so, and monitored the dead drops as closely as he could, in case further details came in that way, but--nothing.

But now, finally, _finally,_ he’d gotten another message on the secure line, asking if they could meet, leaving the time and place up to him.

Fortunately, he was ready right away with an answer. He’d tried to always have a contingency plan for this sort of thing in place, ever since he’d had to scramble on short notice when Specter had first appeared. And, given the limitations of Obi-Wan’s messages, he’d made all but the absolute final arrangements for one of them within hours of the first one, half-expecting a request like that would come eventually.

They would have a much smaller window this time--the project he had available only required his actual presence for a day, and he wanted to be back in the capital if at all possible when news of Specter’s death officially broke. (He was delaying his planned trip home for the same reason; but Breha understood, and he’d make it up to Winter when he finally did get there.)

Still, it would be time enough for him to meet with Obi-Wan, to find out exactly what had happened to Anakin; possibly even discuss the situation with Luke and Princess Lavinia, but that was a _much_ lower priority, as he’d already decided.

He sent a response with the location and timeframe, and got a brief confirmation almost immediately.

That done, he left the final arrangements to his staff and went to update Padme.

She didn’t seem surprised, either; mostly relieved that things were finally moving forward, but still anxious, clutching her skirt tight in her fists. “So, we’ll know soon.”

“Yes,” he said. “I’ll tell you everything he tells me as soon as I get back. I promise.”

She nodded. “I’ve been trying to make it work,” she told him, glancing down at her hands; she frowned, forced them to relax. “So I could--so I could come with you. I kept thinking, I could probably blend in with your staff, Dorme could keep covering for me…”

He winced internally. He’d been afraid of that, in the back of his mind, ever since he’d started laying his own plans. And he wasn’t sure he could talk her out of it this time, the way he had--the way he had when she’d wanted to run into the burning Temple, six years ago. The risks were much more nebulous now, after all.

Still, the way she’d said it was a relief. As if she--or, possibly, Sabe--had managed to talk _herself_ out of it.

“But?” he prompted, as gently as he could.

She sighed. “But if an _emergency_ happened, something my handmaidens couldn’t handle, something requiring prolonged contact with someone who’d figure us out, I’d have to...to abruptly fall ill, or something, and that…”

“Would draw attention,” he finished for her. And, though neither of them was quite willing to say it out loud, they both knew--depending on how much Palpatine knew about what had happened to Specter, it was entirely possible he’d _stage_ something. Just to test for that very thing.

Or, equally possible, he might _not_ stage something, in the hopes that she would run off like she desperately wanted to, leading the Empire to their Jedi friends.

She nodded miserably.

“I’m sorry,” he said. What else could he say?

“And I know it’s not--I won’t even--it’s not like he’ll _be_ there, or…”

And if there was even the slightest chance he _would…_

Risks aside, six years was a long time to not see the man she loved.

“Probably not,” he agreed.

“As it is, I’d at least--I’d at least be able to see Ben again,” she said. “Which would be-- _that_ would be wonderful, too. It’s been too damn long. And it’s...it’s hard to walk away from that. That’s part of why it took me this long to give in. Sabe and the others and I argued for hours, right up until this morning. That and--and it won’t be _much_ faster, for me to hear, but...but it would be enough.”

He nodded, and squeezed her hand briefly “I’ll update you as fast as I can. I promise.”

“I know you will,” she said.

“Will you be all right until then?” he asked.

She nodded, and gave him a ghost of a smile. “Don’t worry. I have people to keep me from doing anything stupid, and I’ll...I’ll find something to do, so I stop brooding. But…” She paused, her smile fading. “Come back soon, all right?”

“As soon as I can,” he promised, then squeezed her hand one last time and headed out the door.

 

* * *

 

Everything went smoothly, getting to the designated planet and then splitting off from his staff to meet with the Jedi. Bail would have almost been suspicious, if he hadn’t had this planned, at least broadly, for as long as he had.

Just like last time, Obi-Wan had beaten him to the rendezvous; probably by no more than an hour, though. Four years hadn’t changed him much, other than putting a little more silver in his hair. He _did_ seem tired, stressed, in a way he hadn’t been the last time they’d met in person, but Bail figured that probably had more to do with the immediate crisis than anything else.

He did dredge up a smile when Bail approached. “Bail,” he said, rising and bowing briefly once Bail had cut the bike’s engine. “Thank you, for arranging this so quickly.”

“Of course,” he said, climbing off and going to join the Jedi. “It’s good to see you again. I just wish it could be under better circumstances.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “Someday,” he said softly.

“Someday,” Bail echoed. He paused for a moment, then asked, “How...how are you doing?”

“All right,” he said, after a moment’s thought. “Or--I will be, soon, I think. Better than the past couple of days, certainly. It’s been...trying.”

He nodded. “What happened?”

Obi-Wan was quiet for a long moment, gathering his thoughts. “Specter tracked Anakin down. They fought, Anakin killed him, but…” He closed his eyes briefly, took a breath. “He lost his leg.”

Bail sucked in a breath. “That’s--I’m sorry.” Because it wasn’t as bad, not _nearly_ as bad, as his nightmares had made him think, but at the same time…

_That poor kid; and he’d already lost his arm, too._

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan said softly.

“How--” He paused. “How’s _he_ doing? Is he…?”

“He’s stable,” he said. “And safe, for the time being. In good hands. But there were...complications, delays in getting him care.”

Which was bad; even with a lightsaber (or, at least, Bail _assumed_ it had been Specter’s lightsaber) to cauterize the wound and keep Anakin from bleeding to death…

“What can I do?” he asked. That first message had mentioned additional resources which, under the circumstances, could mean any number of things.

“As I said, he’s in good hands now. We were able to find a doctor, and he is extremely capable, but he can’t source a--a prosthetic without drawing too much attention,” Obi-Wan said. “Can you help us?”

“Yes,” he said, immediately. “But it might take me some time.” Actually _finding_ what they needed shouldn’t be a problem--enough of his various charity projects involved donated medical supplies that he knew exactly who to contact. Besides, he could bury this _specific_ item in all the rest; the risk of compromise was minimal on that end.

On the other hand, figuring out a way to get it _to_ the Jedi that couldn’t be traced back to him, while also making sure it didn’t get lost or stolen in transit...that would take some work.

“Of course,” Obi-Wan said. “I understand. And it will...it will be awhile before he’s ready for it.”

 _Damn._ Serious complications, then. “How’s he handling _that?”_ Bail asked.

He sighed. “Right at this moment? I’m not sure,” he admitted. “He’s still--he’s been somewhat disoriented, the past few days. But it’s different, than...than before. With his arm, I mean. Everything happened very quickly then; I don’t think he’d really grasped that it was _gone_ before he had the new one. Hard to say which is worse.” He paused. “The prolonged inactivity _will_ be difficult for him, though.”

Bail nodded. “I’ll work as quickly as I can, then, and let you know as soon as I have everything in place,” he said. “I’ll leave a message at one of the dead drops for you.”

“Good,” Obi-Wan said. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” he said. “What...what can I tell Padme, in the meantime?” It wasn’t necessarily fair to ask Obi-Wan to go over all of the messy details, but she would want to know. She would _need_ to know.

But, of course, Obi-Wan had anticipated the question. “Give her this.” He pulled a datacard out of his pocket. “The file on it has everything, as of when I left. It’ll erase itself ninety minutes after she opens it, but that should be enough time.”

“Right,” he said, and accepted the card.

“And I have this, as well.” A letter; handwritten on flimsi like all the others. Shorter than the last few he’d seen, only about a page, but still. Anakin had at least been well enough to write. That was a good sign.

 _Assuming it’s reasonably coherent, that will go a long way towards reassuring her._ Bail took that as well, and put both away for safekeeping. “I’ll pass these along.”

Obi-Wan nodded, then paused again. “There is something...unrelated I wanted to ask you about, as long as we’re both here.”

“Yes?”

“I encountered a Naval commander not long ago; I was told his name is Thrawn,” he said. “Do you know anything about him?”

The name _was_ vaguely familiar, but that was all Bail could say. Bel Iblis was the one who kept track of the military officials a few steps below High Command, as potential future threats.

“Not really,” he admitted. “But I could find out. Why?”

“He’s very good,” Obi-Wan said. “Better than most I’ve dealt with. I’d rather not be unprepared when I meet him again.”

He nodded. “I’ll see what I can find, and get back to you.”

And now it was his turn to hesitate. He _had_ been planning to wait, but as long as they were discussing unrelated, non-emergent business...

“What is it?” Obi-Wan asked.

He sighed. “Low priority. We think. Or--at least not crisis-level.”

“All right.”

“But...we were planning to make contact with Princess Lavinia this week.”

“What went wrong?”

“Luke beat us to it,” he said. “He wandered away at a reception. Which he _knows_ he’s not supposed to do, but--”

“Children have minds of their own,” Obi-Wan said dryly. He was frowning a little, but didn’t look _too_ concerned.

 _That’s encouraging._ “Yes. So far as Padme can tell, he had no idea who she was at first, just...saw a little girl sitting by herself and decided to make friends.”

“I see,” he said, then was quiet for a moment. “Did it go badly?”

He shook his head. “Padme told me they seemed to be getting along when she found them. They were playing a game.”

He considered. “It’s not ideal,” he said. “Nothing that draws more attention to Luke is ideal right now. But there’s a chance this would have happened _anyway,_ even if you had managed to control the initial contact. I would advise--monitor the situation closely, but for now, don’t try to interfere.”

Bail nodded. “That’s...more or less what we decided, but I wanted to let you know. And I’m glad you agree.”

“Right.” He seemed about to say something else, when Bail’s commlink buzzed in his pocket. Obi-Wan sighed. “Time?”

“Time,” he agreed. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he assured him. “You’ve been more than helpful, on extremely short notice. I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

“I’m just glad I could help,” he said. “We’ll be in touch?”

“Yes, soon,” he said. “May the Force be with you, my friend.”

“And you,” Bail said softly, before getting on his bike again and returning to his official task.

 

* * *

 

Luke had been dreaming again; not exactly about the wide-open planet with the blue, blue skies, but it had _felt_ the same, almost. It made him think about it, anyway, even though the place where he’d been was dim and foggy instead.

In the dream, he’d been sad and a little bit scared, but at the same time _not,_ or maybe not anymore. Like something had happened, something _bad;_ he thought maybe someone important had gotten _hurt._ But, now, there was--he felt like the worst was over. Like things were starting to get _better,_ even if it wasn’t good _yet._

He sort of thought that maybe it had something to do with the _other_ dream he’d had, a few nights before, where it was cold and dark and he was falling, falling, falling under blinking red lights.

At least tonight’s dream hadn’t been _scary,_ like that one.

But it was still enough to wake him up, and _keep_ him awake, even though it was really, _really_ late, so late it was _early._ And he wasn’t sure _why._ It wasn’t the dream, exactly--the dream had been _settled._ Like taking a breath and finally sitting down after a really, really busy day.

Maybe it was because _he_ wasn’t exactly feeling like that outside of the dream. Mostly, he thought, ‘cause Mamma had been all edges inside ever since Uncle Bail had gotten that message, when he’d come over for dinner a few nights ago, and Luke couldn’t figure out how to help her. But also, he was still trying to get to see Lani--even if the Emperor said no, ‘cause he _wasn’t_ going to leave her alone without any friends. But he couldn’t figure out how to do _that,_ either.

At least his other self, the one from the empty-planet dreams, was doing better than he was.

After a few minutes, ‘cause it was something to _do_ and better than staring at the ceiling and watching the traffic lights dance, Luke crawled out of bed and crept over to the door. It slid open without making noise; once it did, he could hear soft voices in the living room. Mamma and Uncle Bail, and she sounded...sad, and tired. Still really upset, but not tense and worried like she had been the past couple days.

 _Almost like in my dream, except not--not as sure. Not as_ hopeful.

He frowned and edged closer, moving as quiet as he could.

“It feels...it feels _real_ now,” Mamma was saying. “Not that...I mean, you know how it’s been, since--not knowing has been _unbearable._ And knowing _is_ better, even as bad as it is. But…”

“But now that that’s not the immediate concern?” Uncle Bail prompted, after a few seconds.

“The...the worst case scenario...it’s not abstract anymore,” she said, and sighed. “I think maybe I haven’t _let_ myself think about it before. Not really. It was too--too awful to contemplate. But now...it’s not just...it’s not just something that _might_ happen now. It’s no longer something I can ignore. Hells, Bail, he came _so close.”_

“He did,” he said quietly. “But he’s safe now. And he’s--he _will_ be all right. Even if he isn’t just yet.”

“I know. I know, I know, and I keep telling myself that. I keep reminding myself it wasn’t as bad as it could have been,” she said. “I _know_ it wasn’t, and I’m--I’m so _grateful_ for that, believe me, and I’m _trying_ to stay focused on that but…”

“But,” he echoed.

“And what if...what if next time, it’s worse? Bail, what if next time, he _does--”_ Her breath caught in the back of her throat, and when she kept going, her voice was shaky, like she was trying really hard not to cry. “What if I--what if I never see him again? What if Luke never even gets to _meet_ him?”

Luke blinked. _Meet who?_

“Four years,” Uncle Bail said quietly. “That’s what you agreed on, wasn’t it? At the latest, four more years, and then...”

“Yes,” she said. “And I know it’s not _safe_ to do anything else right now. But so much can happen in four years. Look how much happened in four _days.”_

“I know,” he said. “I know, I know.”

A hand landed on Luke’s shoulder. He jumped a little, guilty, and looked up to see Aunt Sabe.

She put a finger to her lips to silence him. Her other hand moved from his shoulder to take his, and she pulled him back into his room and shut the door. “You, my young lord, should _not_ be eavesdropping,” she said.

He flushed and looked down at the floor. “I know,” he said. “But I couldn’t sleep, and Mamma was upset.”

Aunt Sabe sighed.

He peeked up at her. “Who were they talking about?”

She shook her head. “You needn’t concern yourself with that just now.”

“But--” He hesitated. “But Mamma was _really_ upset. She was talking about...about never seeing him again.” _And she said what if_ I _don’t get to meet him, and if he’s that important, how come I don’t get to know who he is?_

She was quiet for a moment, then sighed again. “They were talking about...a very dear friend of your mother’s,” she said, slowly. “Someone she hasn’t seen since before you were brought to Varykino to live with her. And that is _all_ I will say. I shouldn’t even have been the one to tell you that much.”

But at least it was _something._ “And he’s in trouble?” he pushed.

She stared at him for a moment.

He stared right back.

“He’s been very badly hurt,” Aunt Sabe said finally said. “And your mamma can’t help him, or even go _see_ him, because it’s not safe. For either of them.”

“Oh,” he said. Which explained why Mamma was so upset, even if it _still_ didn’t say who he was, or why it was so important to Mamma that Luke got to meet him someday. _In four years? Isn’t that what Uncle Bail said? Why four years?_

But Aunt Sabe had flat-out said she wouldn’t tell him any more, even if he asked. And once Aunt Sabe said something like that, only Mamma could change her mind, and even _she_ sometimes couldn’t.

But there were other things Luke could find out. Even if they weren’t _exactly_ about Mamma’s mysterious friend. It was all about asking the right questions. “Is that why you came back early?” he asked.

“Partly,” she said, then paused. “You may be coming back home to Naboo with me, when I go.”

He blinked, surprised enough by this news to, at least for a minute, forget about his original question. “But...but the holiday’s over. Mamma has to be back at the Senate now.”

“Yes, she does. It’ll just be you. And probably Aunt Elle.”

“But--but what about _Lani?”_ Because he _still_ hadn’t heard when he could go see her again, and if he _left…_

Maybe she’d _forget_ him (she was still really little), or not want to be his friend anymore, or he might miss his chance and have to do something dangerous instead of getting permission and Mamma would be mad at him.

“Listen to me, Luke,” Aunt Sabe said, very serious. “Things are probably going to get very, very dangerous here on Imperial Center, over the next few weeks. I very much doubt you’ll be allowed to see the princess until things settle again anyway, and your mamma will want you somewhere safer until then as well. Probably most of the other Senators and court officials who have their children with them will be doing the same.”

Something sort of tickled in the back of his mind. Just like it had at the beginning of Founding Week, while they were on their way back to Imperial Center.

This year was _important._

This year, things were _changing._

And something fell into place, and he got a horrible, horrible feeling.

“Did…” He hesitated. “Lord Specter isn’t here.”

“No,” Aunt Sabe said.

“Something...something happened to him.”

She eyed him for a moment. “That...is a dangerous question, Luke. Think very, very carefully about what it might mean to know a thing like that before it’s made public.”

He swallowed.

 _I thought--maybe I might meet someone who would be an important friend. And then I met Lani, and that got--she_ is _my friend, and she_ needs _friends, and that’s_ important, _but it’s all messy anyway, because being her friend means being_ watched.

 _And I thought maybe something would happen so Lord Specter wouldn’t be so scary anymore, and Lord Specter_ isn’t here. _But those were s’posed to be_ good _things, and instead..._

“Is that how Mamma’s friend got hurt?” he asked, after a moment.

She glanced at the door. “Yes,” she said. “It is.”

“I wish…” He started, then stopped. “I wish he hadn’t been.”

“I know you do,” she said, and hugged him close.

He clung back, just as tight, and didn’t say anything else for a long time.

Just like he’d thought, what felt like forever and ever ago: this year, this Empire Day, everything had changed.

If only he knew what it all _meant._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor, poor, chronically underinformed Luke...
> 
> So sorry for the late update, guys <3
> 
> And this brings Part 4: Commander to a close. It has been a long and wild ride, and all kinds of new patterns have been established, new connections have been made, and old ones have been disrupted.
> 
> Next update will start Part 5: Lessons, which will be mostly focused on the kids, and also properly introduce Darth Infernalis.
> 
> Thank you all for sticking with me so long! <333333
> 
> ~shadowsong


	46. Part 5: Lessons, Chapter 1

It was a lot harder, Leia had learned, to  _ stop _ something in motion than it was to get it started.

Which was probably part of the point of this lesson, actually. Other than just the specific skill involved, which was important by itself, anyway. What Uncle Obi-Wan liked to call the “broader application.” And if she’d been getting this lesson from  _ him, _ she’d’ve guessed it was the main point. But she was working with Daddy, which meant that took second place.

(She hadn’t exactly figured out where Aunt ‘Soka would put it. Somewhere in the middle, she was pretty sure, but she hadn’t been getting lessons from Aunt ‘Soka for anywhere near as long.)

For her newest lesson today, Daddy had brought her out to the canyon, where they usually practiced--far enough out that no one could sneak up on them, but not so far out that if something went wrong, they couldn’t get help. And after they’d finished the usual basic warm-up lessons, he’d brought out a little round table, about the same size as a dejarik board only not as thick, ‘cause it didn’t have any of the projectors or anything in it. That was balanced on a skinny pole about half a meter tall and only a couple centimeters wide, so it would wobble back and forth, tilting in all different directions whenever Daddy pushed it. Then he’d set a bright-red ball on top--the goal of the exercise was the keep the ball as close to the grey circle on the center of the table as possible, while everything was moving.

It was  _ not _ as easy as she’d thought it would be, when he’d first explained it. After all, she’d been moving things around with the Force, playing games like this one--well,  _ simpler _ games, but still with the same goal of teaching her some new skill--with Daddy and Uncle Obi-Wan for as long as she could remember. And with Aunt ‘Soka, too, of course, since she’d found them. And sometimes they had her do things blindfolded, or through mazes, or in a whole other  _ room. _ Keeping a small ball in a specific place, while she was looking right at it and only half a meter away,  _ should not  _ have been so hard.

But it turned out there were a  _ lot _ of little details to keep track of when something was moving around. Maybe it would be easier if it was moving in one direction, or even in patterns that made  _ sense, _ but Daddy kept the table moving  _ fast, _ shifting angles and directions all over the place, faster than she could track without concentrating really, really hard.

And then,  _ just _ when she’d finally gotten the hang of it, scowling at the ball which had been actually  _ in _ the grey center target for almost a whole ten seconds--

_ Plink. _

It was such a tiny little noise, for something so full of  _ doom. _

Without any warning, or any drop in the table’s speed, Daddy dropped a  _ second _ ball, this one green, onto the table; smaller than the first but made out of something heavier, and throwing  _ everything _ off.

She shifted her attention, scrambling to catch it before it fell all the way off--and lost her grip on the  _ first _ ball in the process.

_ Come on, come on… _

She tried to compensate, and  _ missed _ \--the first ball rolled off the edge of the table. But she was only a split second behind it; it stopped in midair a few centimeters above Daddy’s left knee. Which was at least better than letting it hit the sand--that would have meant she’d  _ really _ messed up. And the second, heavier ball,  _ was _ still on the table.

Barely.

“Good job, princess,” he said, steadying the table and collecting the balls with a wave of his hand.

She sighed, and slumped forward a little bit. “I still dropped it,” she said.

“Yeah, but then you caught it,” he said. “Before it hit the ground, even. Besides, you lasted a  _ lot _ longer than I did, the first time I tried this.”

“Really?”

“Really really,” he said, and reached over to ruffle her hair. “Relax, all right? This was only your first try. You’ll get better with practice.”

That  _ was _ true. It had been with every other game they’d played, too. Even all the new ones--there had been a  _ lot _ of new ones, getting more and more complicated, over the past few months.

They’d started picking up the pace in her lessons after Daddy got hurt last year. He’d had time to start showing her how to do things in a lot more detail, while he was out of the field and healing. And he’d let her watch him practice with his saber, after his new leg got attached, while he was figuring out how to balance and everything again. He’d even, after a couple days of that, put together a pair of dragon bone practice blades and walked her through some basic forms.

“We don’t have a real training saber for you,” he’d said, when he took her out to the canyon and pressed the smaller one into her hands. “But these’ll work at least to get you started. We can figure something else out later.”

And saber work, even just running forms, had quickly become one of her favorite things in the  _ world _ to do. That first practice had turned into one of the best days  _ ever. _

Not that--of  _ course _ she was upset that Daddy had been hurt so bad that he  _ couldn’t _ do his job and help people, and she knew that was the main reason her lessons had gotten so much  _ more _ right when they did; earlier than Daddy and Uncle Obi-Wan had wanted, she was pretty sure. But, at the same time…

She almost  _ never _ got to spend that much time with Daddy all at once. It was usually only a week, sometimes just a couple of  _ days, _ before he was off on his next mission. And even if he usually wasn’t  _ gone _ much longer than that, either, that many weeks all in a row had been--

It was  _ amazing. _ Plus, she’d learned a  _ lot, _ and could keep practicing with her bone practice sword, which got her that much closer to actually going with him to help fight.

She just wished it could’ve happened  _ without _ him getting hurt.

Swords were not today’s lesson, sadly. They hadn’t done swords at  _ all _ this visit. Not yet, anyway. Just little stuff, like the new table game. Which she  _ would _ get perfect eventually, but right now it was hard.

“All right, princess,” he said. “Let’s take a break, and try some targeting for a while, okay?”

“Okay,” she said, standing up and grabbing the bag of smooth rocks they usually used for this off of the eopie’s saddle, patting her neck a couple times before coming back. “What am I throwing at?”

“Me,” he said. “And you’re gonna be blindfolded, all right?”

She’d pretty much expected that--otherwise, it wouldn’t be a challenge at all. “Okay,” she said.

“I want you to pay attention to what I do when I stop the rocks, all right?” he said, tying a scarf around her head and making sure it was tight enough.  “It’ll help with the table game.”

She nodded, then frowned, waiting for her senses to adjust to the blindfold while Daddy moved a meter or so away and turned over into a handstand.

Not that she knew  _ why _ he wanted to do this upside down. Maybe  _ he _ wanted to practice something, too.

“Whenever you’re ready, princess.”

“Okay,” she said, and picked up the first rock to start throwing.

The first one went wide, but the next few were a lot closer. After four or five, Leia was able to do the other part of what Daddy had asked, and try to keep track of what he was doing to stop them. Aunt ‘Soka had shown her a couple of focus-splitting tricks last time she’d visited that helped a lot.

_ Okay. Okay, I  _ think _ I get it. I’ll have to try on the table later, but I can  _ probably _ do that, too. _

“You know, this is actually  _ easier _ than the table game, at least for me,” Daddy said, as another rock stopped in midair right in front of his face. She thought. Maybe it was closer to his shoulder? Definitely in range of where she was  _ supposed  _ to aim, at least.

“Yeah?” she asked, tilting her head towards his voice and picking up the next rock.

“Yep,” he said. “Because they’re coming at me, instead of just rolling around at random. Makes ‘em a threat, easier to track.”

Leia stopped, the rock heavy in her hand, and frowned dubiously. “They’re just little rocks.” They weren’t sharp or anything, and even with the Force to help her aim and stuff, even  _ if _ he missed one, they wouldn’t hit him  _ nearly _ hard enough to actually hurt.

Right?

“I dunno, princess,” he said, trying to sound serious, but she could  _ hear _ him smiling. “You throw ‘em pretty hard.”

Which either meant she wasn’t actually throwing them hard  _ enough, _ or he was just being silly. She rolled her eyes behind her blindfold and, to prove him wrong, threw the next one as hard as she could.

It went wide. She could  _ tell _ it was going to go wide as soon as it left her hand, and she wasn’t fast enough to get it back on track.

“Hmm,” he said, catching it easily even almost half a meter to his left. “Your aim could use a little work, though. Stay focused, princess.”

Right. She shouldn’t let him do that. She wasn’t  _ supposed _ to let him do that. Uncle Obi-Wan played this game, too (better than Daddy did); teasing gently to mess with her concentration.

She took a breath, let it out slow, and flung the last rock with a little more care.

“Good!” Daddy said. “Right between the eyes.”

She grinned, and lifted up her blindfold. “Most of ‘em got pretty close, right?”

“After the first three, yes,” he said, dropping back onto his feet. “So, next time I’m here, I think we’ll work on switching focus a little faster.”

She nodded. But that meant he was probably heading back out soon, otherwise he’d take a day or so and come up with a new game for  _ this _ trip. He hadn’t said yet, which probably meant that Uncle Obi-Wan had  _ just  _ found something and called him right before they’d come out here, and he hadn’t wanted her to be distracted by all that during the lesson.

“When are you leaving?” she asked.

“Tomorrow,” he said. “Not til after noon, though, so we can practice some more in the morning, if you want.”

“Okay,” she said. “Can I come with you?”

“Nope,” Daddy said, right away. “Not this time, princess.”

Well, she’d known what the answer was gonna be, but she still asked every time. After all,  _ eventually _ the answer would change. She just had to keep asking, ‘cause if she stopped, how would she know when it did? “Okay,” she said, trying not to sound  _ too _ disappointed. “Can we do swords for a while now?”

He considered for a minute. “One more time with the table game,” he said, sitting down next to it and setting both balls back in place. “With two from the start this time.  _ Then _ we can do swords.”

She sighed, and sat back down herself. Well, it would be better for her to try copying what Daddy had just showed her real quick. Easier for her to remember that way. And balancing two balls probably wouldn’t be as hard if she had both from the beginning, like him dropping the second on her halfway through had been. That was something.

It still didn’t sound like much fun.

“Or, if you don’t want to do two,” he said, “you could put the blindfold back on and try it that way with only one.”

She made a face. “Two’s good,” she said quickly. It  _ always _ went better when she could see what she was doing. Which was why Daddy (and Aunt ‘Soka, and  _ especially  _ Uncle Obi-Wan) made her do stuff blindfolded all the time, ‘cause she  _ needed _ to get better at that. And she knew that, and most of the time she didn’t mind. Sometimes, it even went pretty well--like today, throwing rocks at Daddy.

But she wanted to end the lesson getting it  _ right, _ and it was hard enough when she could see.

“All right,” Daddy said. “Next time, though.”

“Next time,” she agreed, and settled in to concentrate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo, I have been posting this story for almost a whole entire year now! I started as of October 12, 2016. It has been quite a ride, and thank you all so much for sticking with me through it! <3
> 
> I'll probably put up a bonus fic on [my writing tumblr](https://shadowsong26fic.tumblr.com/), because I feel like that seems appropriate. Feel free to shoot me an ask over there if there's anything in particular you'd like to see from such a thing. I'll probably post about it there sometime in the next couple days, too, as a reminder.
> 
> Because I'm having a lot of fun with this, and the fact that you guys are, too, almost a year later, means a lot. <333 Sooo yeah. :D Bonus content of some kind forthcoming, hurray!
> 
> ~shadowsong


	47. Part 5, Chapter 2

Even after more than a year of coming to see Lani, Luke still hadn’t gotten used to the Imperial Palace. Not exactly ‘cause of the Emperor--he actually hadn’t seen  _ him _ any more often than before--but because the whole place felt--cold. And  _ wrong. _ Not exactly scary, either (except that a lot of the  _ people  _ there were), but…

Sad, almost; but that wasn’t really it, either. He wasn’t sure he  _ knew _ the word for how the Palace felt.

And even when he got past all the more public parts and made it to Lani’s room, it wasn’t much better. Probably not at  _ all _ better, really, if he stopped to think about it; except he had something else to focus on besides the way the walls  _ hurt. _ But it was definitely,  _ definitely _ always much nicer when her guard took her out to the park and they could play there. And of course he wished that she could come to his apartment sometimes, but he was almost positive the Emperor would  _ never _ let  _ that _ happen.

Even the park almost never happened. And it was raining today, anyway,  _ and _ this was the first time he’d been allowed to see her in almost a whole  _ month. _ Long enough that he’d actually thought about trying to sneak in. Except she’d get in trouble if he got caught, and probably Mamma would, too. Plus, he was  _ trying _ to be good, and careful, like he’d promised after he’d first met Lani and decided he needed to be her friend. Sneaking past the guards  _ probably _ wasn’t either careful  _ or _ good.

But he’d been worried about her, and it had been a  _ huge _ relief this morning when he’d finally gotten a message, just like before, telling him when he could come and see his friend. So he was okay with going through the Palace for that, especially since  _ she _ had to live there  _ all the time. _ He had no idea how she managed.

Except--well, on the other hand, the Palace didn’t seem to bother Aunt Motee or anyone else the way it bothered him. Sure, she was tense and doing that careful watching-not-watching thing she and his other aunts did with her eyes whenever they were in Bodyguard Mode. But not really all that much more than she did anywhere  _ else _ she decided wasn’t totally safe. Like when they were too close to the crowds on festival days, or when Mamma went on one of her disaster relief trips.

So maybe that was just something weird about him, like his dreams.

They had a guard walking with them on the way to Lani’s room, of course; even though he still remembered the way, and so did Aunt Motee, the guard was there to watch them more than anything else. He was used to it, and he didn’t mind too much. And when they got there, there was a red guard on the door like always. It was hard, sometimes, but Luke could usually tell Lani’s four bodyguards apart, and he was  _ pretty  _ sure this was the second one he’d met; not the one who’d been on watch at the Empire Day party last year. It would be easier if he could see their faces, or if he knew their names, but he wasn’t allowed to ask.

Guard Number Two (Probably) stood still for a couple seconds, probably running Luke and Aunt Motee through whatever scanners were in his helmet. It didn’t take long, and then the door beside him slid open.

Luke made sure to Behave, and  _ not _ dart in past the guard even though he really really wanted to, mostly because there was usually another one inside the room watching her who might think he was attacking or something. And, sure enough, Number Three was standing just inside the door, his armor gleaming red in the shadows, standing exactly still--but Luke knew that was  _ not _ something anyone smart would take for granted.

The rest of the room was just like how he remembered it, too; tucked away in a corner of the palace with colorless walls and a window that wouldn’t open. Lani had a desk in one corner that was too big for her, so she didn’t sit there unless she had to. A door on the right-hand wall led to her bedroom, which wasn’t much nicer; there was a rug on the floor that was exactly as gloomy as the walls, but was actually pretty soft and nice to sit on.

Lani was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the rug, staring intently down at a datapad.  _ She _ was a little bit of color, at least, and nicer than Number Three; red hair in a braid like always, and her dress today was dark blue. She frowned a little at her screen, pushed one last button, then set it aside with a sigh and stood up. “Hi,” she said.

“Hi!” He grinned at her. “Can I give you a hug?” It was important to ask, especially with Lani, since sometimes she didn’t like to be touched.

She nodded, and smiled back.

He hugged her, very lightly; she didn’t hug back, exactly--they were working on that--but she relaxed a little.

“Missed you,” she said.

“Yeah,” he said. “You’ve been really busy, though?”

She blinked, then nodded. “Yeah. Lessons an’ stuff.” She sat back down on the floor, tugging on his hand so he would join her.

He nudged the ‘pad out of the way so he could. “Were you playing a game?” he asked.

She shook her head. “More lessons. There’s a picture of a room, and I only see it for a little bit. Then I have to ‘member where all the furniture went and put it back together.”

“Did you get it right?” He thought she probably had--her memory wasn’t exactly as good as Winter’s but  _ nobody’s _ memory was exactly as good as Winter’s. Lani’s was definitely better than his, though.

“Yeah,” she said, but she didn’t seem all that pleased. “Except I’m not fast enough.”

“You’ll get better,” he said. “Probably just takes practice.”

She did cheer up a little bit when he said that, which was good. “Yeah,” she said, and smiled again. “Thanks.”

“‘Course,” he said.

“What about you?” she asked.

“Lessons and stuff,” he said, and grinned when she rolled her eyes a little. “Plus, Mamma brought me to her office a couple times. Just sorting stuff.”

She nodded. “But it’s helping?”

“Yeah,” he said. “And I like helping Mamma.”

“I’m glad,” she said, toying with the hem of her skirt a little bit, then changed the subject. “Wish we could go on the balcony. I’m ‘llowed to have flowers out there now, and they’re really pretty.”

“Maybe next time,” he said. Her balcony was on one of the Palace’s inner courtyard, so sometimes her guards let them out there. Unless there was a specific security threat or something, which he didn’t  _ think _ there was right now. Rain was a better reason to not be allowed outside.

“Yeah,” she said, and let go of her skirt, smoothing it back in place. “What do you wanna do instead?”

“I picked last time,” he said. Which he had. They’d spent most of that afternoon playing hide and seek, as much as they could in her room. “Your turn.”

“Okay.” She pondered for a minute. “I think I ‘member the card game you showed me last time,” Lani said. “We could play, since we can’t go outside?”

“Sure,” he said. He’d figured she’d pick either that or coloring, since her lessons all afternoon had been puzzles.

She nodded again, then picked up her datapad and got up and went over to her desk, climbing up onto the chair to carefully set the ‘pad on top and open one of the drawers. He couldn’t see what was in there other than the cards, but that was probably where she kept all her fun things. Or, at least, he  _ hoped _ she had enough fun things to fill a drawer.

He wondered about that, for a minute--he’d given her a stuffed shaak a couple months ago, ‘cause he was getting too big for it and she needed something soft, but he hadn’t seen it since then. He wasn’t sure exactly where it went, and really hoped it was only hidden away somewhere, and she hadn’t had it taken away. Probably not in the drawer, actually, since looking closer told him it wasn’t tall enough, but he didn’t know what other hiding places she might have.

He didn’t ask, though. Guard Number Three was still watching, and he did  _ not _ want Lani to get in trouble for hiding things.

“We each get seven, right?” she said, sitting back on the rug next to him and handing him the deck.

“Yep,” he said, mixing up the cards and dealing them out. “And you want the color or the number to match, and eights can change it.”

She nodded. “Thought so. You go first.”

“‘Kay.” She usually had him do that--he’d figured out a while ago she  _ really _ didn’t like not knowing what she was supposed to do. She learned really quick, though, so watching him once or sometimes twice was usually all she needed.

They played quietly for a couple minutes--he was winning, probably ‘cause he’d just gotten lucky and had the numbers and colors he needed to not have to draw too many, at least at first.

But when they’d gone through maybe half the deck…

“Luke?” Lani asked, studying her hand with her head tilted, like she had a couple options and wasn’t sure which one she should play.

“Uh-huh?”

“Do you ‘member Lord Specter?”

He tensed a little. “Yeah,” he said. “I didn’t know you did.”  _ Oops. Maybe I shouldn’t’ve said that... _

“I only saw him a couple times,” she admitted. “I was too little, ‘cause he’s been gone since we met.” She finally put another card down on the pile. “Your turn.”

“Right. Okay,” he bit his lip a little. “Um. Why are you asking about Lord Specter?”

“There’s another one,” she said.

Luke almost dropped his cards. He looked up at Guard Number Three, uncertain.

But the guard didn’t move. Not yet, at least. Luke couldn’t exactly tell if--

“His name’s Infernalis,” she went on, careful to pronounce it right; just like she had been with her name when they’d first met. “He’s...big.”

He sort of got the feeling she didn’t  _ just _ mean on the outside. But he didn’t want her to get in trouble for telling him about the new Specter, so he didn’t want to ask.

“Your turn,” she said again, nudging his foot a little.

“Right. Sorry. Um.” He played a card without paying that much attention to it other than it was a card he could play. “Thanks, for letting me know. Um. I guess...I guess I’ll probably meet him sometime.”

“Yeah,” she said, frowning at her cards again. “I just...didn’t want you to be surprised. When you do.”

“I know,” he said, then scrambled to change the subject. “Um. What kind of flowers are you growing?”

Lani blinked at him, then nodded and followed his lead.

And, when Number Three didn’t do anything, and nothing else bad happened, Luke started to relax a little. By the time he and Lani finished their third game and moved on to coloring, he’d almost forgotten to be worried about it.

 

* * *

 

Of course, that was  _ with  _ Lani, while they were playing and she was as close to happy as he ever saw her. After walking all the way back to the speeder, through the unhappy Palace with Aunt Motee…

Whether or not  _ Lani _ would be in trouble for telling him, he remembered what Aunt Sabe had said after Lord Specter died--

_ Think very, very carefully about what it might mean to know a thing like that before it’s made public. _

Except...Lani was right about one thing; another Lord Specter would be an awful,  _ awful _ surprise. And now he knew ahead of time, which meant he could tell Mamma, and she would know what to do. If there was anything they  _ could _ do.

Okay. Whether or not he would’ve  _ wanted _ to know before Lani told him--because there were reasons he did and reasons he didn’t--he knew now. And he  _ couldn’t _ not tell, even if it was maybe dangerous, like Aunt Sabe had said.

So, once he and Aunt Motee were safely in the speeder on their way back to the apartment, he took a deep breath.

She glanced across the seat at him, looking up from her datapad. “Something wrong, Luke?”

“Um,” he said. “Lani told me something, and I think it’s important. But I don’t want her to get in trouble for telling me.”

Aunt Motee frowned a little. “Well, I can promise you she won’t be in trouble with  _ us, _ even if she wasn’t supposed to tell you. But if you think whatever she said is that important…”

Which wasn’t what he was worried about, but he even his aunts couldn’t promise more than that, and he knew it.

He sighed. “It is,” he said. “And I don’t...I dunno if she wasn’t supposed to tell me or not. The guard didn’t get mad or anything, but…”

She nodded. “What is it? What happened?”

“She said...she said there’s another Lord Specter,” he told her, all in a rush. “And his name’s Infernalis, and he’s big, but that’s  _ all _ she said because I changed the subject since I didn’t want her to get in trouble.”

Aunt Motee blinked but stayed calm, and reached over and squeezed his hand briefly. Then she was quiet for a really,  _ really _ long time while she thought it through. “The princess told you all on her own?” she finally asked. “You didn’t ask her anything?”

He shook his head. “Uh-uh.”

“All right,” she said, and smiled at him. “I think you handled this  _ exactly  _ the way you should have. Thank you for telling me right away.”

He nodded. “What if...what if Lani does get in trouble?”

“If we can help her, we will,” Aunt Motee promised, and squeezed his hand again.

Luke relaxed. He knew it wasn’t much, but it still made him feel better, that his aunts and Mamma would at least  _ try. _ Especially since he believed they could do  _ anything. _ “Okay.” He thought for a minute, then asked, “So...what are we gonna do now?”

“You’re not going to do anything different than usual just now,” she said. “Except maybe tell Mamma what you told me yourself, if she asks.”

“Okay,” he said again. But that probably meant that _ they _ had things to do. Important things. “Are you  _ sure? _ Maybe I can help?”

“You already have,” she told him. “We know he’s coming, and we know his name. We can do a lot with that. Let us handle it from here.”

He nodded, then hesitated for half a second. They wouldn’t let him help more, and he didn’t really expect them to, and he couldn’t do much for Lani ‘til they knew more, but maybe...maybe there was something else he  _ could _ do.

He hadn’t tried to ask about--about Mamma’s mysterious friend, the one who’d gotten hurt when Lord Specter died. Not since then, because it was supposed to be a secret. Maybe Aunt Motee would tell him more than Aunt Sabe, since he’d caught her in a really, really good mood, and he’d  _ helped… _

Worth a try, anyway.

“Unless there’s something else you know?” Aunt Motee prompted.

“Not...not exactly. Um. When Lord Specter died...” he started, then just plowed through before he could change his mind. “People got hurt. Someone  _ important  _ got hurt. I heard Mamma and Uncle Bail talking about it.”

“I know,” Aunt Motee said, then smiled. “Aunt Sabe and I  _ do _ talk, you know.”

“Oh.” He flushed. “Is...is that gonna happen again?”

“We hope not,” Aunt Motee said. “But you’re not supposed to worry about him.”

“I know,” he said. “But I can’t help it.”

She smiled. “It’s always hard to stop thinking about a mystery, isn’t it.”

He nodded. “Who  _ is _ he?”

“Your mamma will tell you when she’s ready,” Aunt Motee said.

Which was not at  _ all _ the answer he’d been hoping for.

She smiled again and ruffled his hair. “I promise you, you’ll understand someday.”

He sighed, and slouched in his seat. At least he’d done really good  _ earlier, _ she’d said. Found out something important, and handled it exactly, exactly right.

But there was a new Lord Specter running around now, and maybe Lani was in trouble for telling him, and ‘someday’ felt like a really, really long time away.

_ Today started so  _ good, _ too, _ he thought, staring out the window and trying not to sulk.  _ I just wish it could’ve  _ stayed  _ that way. _


	48. Part 5, Chapter 3

There were certain things that Leia simply could not learn on Tatooine, no matter how creative Rex and the Jedi got with her lessons. Not that there wasn’t time to teach her, of course. She was still a long,  _ long _ way away from any kind of active field work, after all. Something like six years was their plan right now; that would put her at thirteen, or nearly, which was the age when Padawans could start going on active duty missions under the old system.

But when they hadn’t had any problems after bringing her to Doctor Naar’s when the General was hurt, they had started cautiously taking her on occasional offplanet trips to fill in some of those gaps. Six years would pass quickly enough, and it was far better for her to learn these things too early than for them to miss something that might be vital.

These trips were still rare, of course. They had their long, slow war to fight, and couldn’t afford to lose what little momentum they had by stepping back too often. Even to train Leia. Besides, they didn’t want to establish any kind of pattern or cause noticeably long absences where Leia’s friends or other locals might question where she’d gone. And  _ any _ exposure was still a risk. But the value of, for example, wilderness and survival skills in non-desert environments was becoming more and more of a factor. Enough to outweigh the downsides, at least from time to time.

This particular trip was under Rex’s supervision. He had borrowed the ship General Kenobi was currently using and brought Leia to a nameless moon in a system about two dozen parsecs away from Tatooine. It was largely uninhabited, with red-gold forests under wide, faintly purple skies, and a series of small, crystal-clear lakes on its eastern hemisphere where he could teach her how to swim.  Which was, as General Skywalker pointed out, a baseline skill for survival in most non-desert environments.

It was just the two of them this time. The three Jedi had gone to Dagobah, to meet with Master Yoda. It was, to Rex’s knowledge, the first time the three of them had gone there together since Commander Tano had found them. She’d gone once by herself, he was pretty sure, once she’d known where to go; and he  _ knew _ General Skywalker had gone as well, as soon as he was healed enough to travel by himself. He wasn’t sure they were planning on discussing anything specific--maybe the news just received from Senator Amidala, that the Emperor already had a new apprentice, or maybe just touching base directly for the first time in years.

But it didn’t really matter to him anyway; if anything came up he needed to know about, they would tell him when they got back. And Leia needed these lessons, and the General had asked him to teach her. He couldn’t have refused even if he’d wanted to, and he he didn’t; he loved the kid, and loved spending time with her.

“Besides,” Commander Tano had said, when they’d made their plans, “you come from a water world. Always ask the expert, right?”

And, well, she wasn’t wrong there.

So, he and Leia had left Tatooine a few hours after the Jedi did, and now here they were. They’d landed around midmorning, local, and at first all Leia had wanted to do was run around and marvel at the colors and the textures of the tree trunks and grasses. Different from Tatooine, or Doctor Naar’s planet, or either of the two others they’d spirited her off to in the past few months.

Rex let her do it for a half-hour or so, because she seemed so happy and he liked seeing her that way. Plus, it gave him a chance to scout around for any kind of potential trouble. As far as he and the others had been able to tell--and they’d done  _ extensive _ research before bringing Leia here, of course--this moon was really only used as a supply cache for certain smugglers who were not unfriendly to their cause. Not Captain Ohnaka’s group, but one connected with the people who had brought General Skywalker his new leg. And most of that activity was in a network of mountain caves on the opposite side of the moon, anyway.

But there were no signs of anyone approaching, and no evidence of any large predators in or near the lake, and they  _ were _ here for more than just to play. Time to get to work.

“All right,  _ ad’ika,” _ he said. “Come on, into the water.”

She’d been halfway up one of the trees when he called. “Okay,” she said, and jumped down, looking only a little bit disappointed. “Can I climb up again later?”

“Sure,” he said. “After we’re done.”

She nodded, and trotted over to join him on the muddy lakeshore, then stopped, eyeing the clear, peaceful-looking lake with what could only be described as profound suspicion.

“All right?” he asked her. This wasn’t the first body of water she’d seen, but it  _ was  _ bigger and deeper than the narrow creek where they’d camped when the Generals were teaching her how to identify which unfamiliar plants might be toxic, or cause an unpleasant reaction when touched. Jedi techniques, and ones Rex deeply,  _ deeply _ envied. Not that he’d actually ever been caught without rations long enough to risk the local flora, but it only took  _ one _ extremely itchy and unpleasant experience to learn some  _ serious _ caution about avoiding skin contact with anything he didn’t know  _ damn well _ was safe.

She took a deep breath. “Yeah,” she said, straightening up and glaring at the lake, as if  _ daring _ it to swallow her up.

“I’ll be right with you, all right?” he told her. “Until you’re really comfortable swimming on your own.”

She nodded, and hugged him very quickly. “Okay. So, I just...get in the water, then?”

“Yep,” he said. “It drops off pretty quick a couple feet out, so stay close, okay?”

She nodded again, grabbing his hand and holding tight as he led her into the water. “It’s  _ cold,” _ she said.

“You’ll get used to it,” he said. “Especially once we get moving.”

“Okay,” she said, and took another deep breath.

They stayed at the edge for a few minutes, where the water was less than a meter deep, while he showed her how to drift along on her back. She got comfortable with that pretty quick, once she realized she actually  _ would _ float. It probably helped, he thought, that she was with someone she’d known and trusted for years, who was clearly more than comfortable in the water with her.

And then, leaving her floating on her back, he started to gently ease them out deeper.

“I like it here,” she said, after a minute. They were still only about as deep as his waist, but she’d be almost completely underwater if she tried standing. He wasn’t sure she realized it; he decided not to point it out. “On this moon.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s like the green place, sort of,” she said. She was putting a brave face on things, but still nervy, clinging tight to his wrists. But talking seemed to help distract her from being nervous, as they got farther from the shore.

“The green place?”

“Uh-huh. I dream about it sometimes. Not  _ all _ the time, like the silver planet, but sometimes.”

_...oh. The green place. _ With that clarification, Rex had a pretty good idea of what she meant by that, especially since there was only one silver planet he could think of that Leia might dream about.

Unfortunately, he was completely out of his depth on this particular issue, and had no idea what he was supposed to say. However much time he spent with his Jedi, there were some things he just wasn’t qualified to talk about. “Does your dad know about them?” he asked, when he couldn’t think of anything else.  _ Besides, if he doesn’t, I should probably tell him. Could be important. _

She nodded. “I don’t tell him all the time, ‘cause he gets sad. But sometimes he asks if I still have ‘em, and if they’re good dreams or not.”

Well, that was good, at least.

_ Knowing the General, he probably asks when he hasn’t gotten any letters for a while, _ Rex thought.  _ To convince himself that it’s just the normal delays, not something that’s gone wrong. And talk himself out of doing something stupid. _

“Are they?” he asked.

“Mostly,” she said. “Not always. It’s like this whole other life inside my head, and life isn’t  _ always _ good dreams. Sometimes there’s storms and stuff.”

“True.” She seemed a lot more comfortable in the water now, and he was concerned about saying the wrong thing. Best to change the subject now, get back on task. “All right,  _ ad’ika.  _ Ready to try moving?”

She blinked, then nodded grimly. “Yeah. Let’s do this.”

 

* * *

 

In the end, they spent about an hour in the water, and given that it was her first time, and only her second even  _ seeing _ this much natural water all collected in one place, Leia did a damn fine job. Rex wasn’t sure if that had anything to do with him as a teacher, or if it was all her--she was a quick learner, either a Jedi trait, or because she was always so  _ determined _ to get things right. But by the end of the hour, not only was she willing to let go of him and able keep her head above water without his help, she’d managed to swim back and forth between a couple of distinctive rocks all by herself.

After that, though--well, the water  _ was _ somewhat cold, and she was tiny. Best to dry off and warm up and bask in their accomplishment on the shore. Besides, he’d promised her she could climb up the trees for a while, and daylight on this moon didn’t last very long.

Of course, contrary child that she was, she was almost as reluctant to get  _ out _ of the water, now she’d found her way, as she had been to get in in the first place.

But he did get her out eventually, and settled on the lakeshore in dry clothes while he tried to brush out and rebraid her hair, which had somehow come undone and worked itself into a tangled mess while they were in the water.

(He wasn’t very good at this, even after several years of trying. Commander Tano was better at it than he was, he suspected; despite having a lot less experience and no hair of her own.)

“Was it like this where you grew up?” Leia asked after a few minutes, fidgeting a little but trying to hold her head still for him. “Uncle Obi-Wan says there’s  _ lots _ of water on your planet.”

“There is,” he said, pausing in his task to look out over the clear, near-still lake, which was really nothing at  _ all _ like the oceans of Kamino. “But not like this. Where I grew up...it’s pretty much the exact opposite of Tatooine, actually. Even more than here.”

She turned her head to look up at him, and he gently pushed it back.

“Try not to move,  _ ad’ika, _ I’ll mess up again.”

“Sorry,” she said. “But...this place is already about as different as I can think.”

“My home planet is basically  _ entirely _ covered by ocean.”

He was certainly no Jedi, and she didn’t turn her head to look at him this time so he couldn’t actually see her face, but he could clearly feel the disbelief radiating off of her all the same. “That’s  _ not _ possible,” she said.

“Hey, have I ever lied to you before?”

“No,” she admitted. “The whole  _ planet?” _

“Yep,” he said. “We had a lot of domes, too.” For much the same reason, he suspected--architecture like that held up better against high winds. “Except, instead of building most things partly underground to stay cool, everything was up on stilts, so it wouldn’t flood too badly.”

She pondered that for a minute, while he finished the braid as best he could and tied it off.

“There, how’s that?”

She tossed her head back and forth. “I think it’ll stay,” she said, then turned around. “Tell me more? About where you grew up. Was it at least pretty, like here?”

“Well, it stormed, almost all the time,” he said. “The clouds would break...eh, maybe once every few months.” He smiled a little, at the memory of those rare moments when the sky lightened and they got dazzling streaks of rainbows as the sun broke through. “I loved those days. Me and my brothers, when we were kids, we’d go climb out onto the roofs and chase each other around, trying to keep our balance. It got real slippery, even without the wind and the rain making it harder.”

“Did you fall?” she asked.

He laughed. “Oh, yeah. Loads of times.” And one of those, back when he’d been around Leia’s stage of growth, had been the only time he’d ever actually  _ met _ his--well, he still wasn’t entirely sure how to refer to Jango Fett. Progenitor, he supposed, was the closest. He’d been counting the seconds and trying to angle his body so the impact when he hit the water would hurt least, when he’d suddenly  _ stopped _ falling, and looked up to see…

His future. Sort of.

And, all right,  _ technically  _ it wasn’t the first or only time something like that had happened; but seeing Fett at a distance, or in a group setting--sometimes, he’d run a weapons class or something for the cadets when he was on planet--wasn’t quite the same.

“I bet your brothers laughed,” she said.

“Sure,” he said. “But not ‘til after they caught me. Usually. And, of course,  _ they _ fell just as often--so whoever had slipped would be teased for a while, and do better next time.”

She nodded, then sighed and flopped back, staring up at the sky. “I wish I had a brother.”

He--wasn’t actually surprised by what she’d said; drifting towards the edge of the secrets they kept from her. Especially after their earlier discussion, about the green planet. So he didn’t blink--much--and she probably couldn’t tell how careful he was with his answer.

“You’ve got your friends,” he pointed out. “And, trust me, biology is not the only thing that makes a family.” Something  _ he _ knew better than just about anyone. Because, even apart from the fact that--well, in a family of millions, your closest brothers became something special, Rex had...lost...his biological family years ago; and now he had--well. Now, he had something different.

“I  _ know,” _ she said, rolling her eyes. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have Aunt ‘Soka.”

_ Or any of the rest of us, technically, _ he thought. Even Owen Lars was related to her by marriage, rather than biology. But Commander Tano  _ was _ the most obvious.

“Still…” She trailed off.

And he understood what she meant. Because...however happy he was with the new life he’d managed to find, he  _ missed  _ his brothers. Or the ones he’d been closest to, at least. There was something about having people  _ like him _ around. And--well, Jedi; he didn’t know how much she  _ knew, _ somewhere deep and instinctual, about the things they didn’t tell her. He had no idea if she felt what he did, sometimes; that deep ache in the pit of his heart, the knowledge that there was something  _ missing _ . No matter how full and happy life was with what they actually had.

But, of course,  even if he ignored all the reasons General Skywalker had for keeping this secret from his daughter, it was in no way Rex’s place to say.

So, much as he wanted to properly commiserate with her, he contented himself with, “Yeah, I know,” and offered her a brief hug.

She accepted it and curled close for a moment, wrapping her arms around him in turn. “Thanks, Uncle Rex,” she whispered, then kissed his cheek and pulled back. “Can I go climb the trees now?”

“Sure,” he said. “Stay where I can see you, and remember what General Kenobi taught you last time.”

“I will,” she promised, then bounced up and darted for the treeline.

Her braid, of course, started coming undone before she was even halfway there.

He sighed and shook his head.

At least they’d accomplished what they’d come here to accomplish. Progress, moving forward--all good things. And for all he missed, he  _ was _ happy with what he had now. Happier than he would have thought possible even two years ago; watching his General’s daughter, who considered him one of her uncles, scramble up the closest tree like some kind of monkey.

Whatever he’d lost along the way, however much he missed the life he’d used to know...he  _ had  _ a family now. Just like he’d told Leia. And so he would  _ keep _ moving forward, just like today; just like he had been for over half a decade now; protecting them and supporting them with everything he had, in every way he could.

Because that’s what family was for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo, as I mentioned previously, this fic is now officially a year old! And I'd like to do a bonus fic, as with previous milestones. Feel free to swing by [my writing tumblr](https://shadowsong26fic.tumblr.com/post/166340550137/confetti) and let me know if there's anything specific you'd like to see!
> 
> And, once again, thank you all so much for staying with me for this long <3
> 
> ~shadowsong


	49. Part 5, Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a note, the first section of this chapter involves Palpatine and Lavinia interacting (along with the new apprentice), which means it depicts child abuse. I'm trying not to be too explicit on the subject, or go into a lot of detail, but it's there.

Darth Infernalis was under no illusions as to his place in the grand scheme of things. He knew exactly what Sidious wanted him to be--an enforcer; an attack dog; someone to deploy when mere soldiers wouldn’t make the necessary point. Someone to take all the active risks in combat, allowing Sidious his veneer of plausible deniability, so he could conceal his actual identity as a Sith Lord, and freeing him to explore the more mystical aspects of the Dark Side.

In short, Infernalis knew damn well he was being used to do the Emperor’s dirty work. But, quite frankly, he didn’t  _ care. _

For one thing, while he had always enjoyed violence, and even had a certain flair for it, until Sidious had found him in the mines, he had lacked the tools to really  _ excel. _ And, he was unashamed to admit, he hadn’t had the skill, control, charisma, or friends in high places necessary to avoid getting caught, either. Which was what had landed him in the mines in the first place--a stupid mistake, and the inability to murder or talk his way out of trouble.

For another, that’s what  _ all  _ sentients did, in the long run. They  _ used  _ one another. No matter how many altruistic souls tried to claim otherwise. Besides, it wasn’t like he wasn’t using his master in turn--for an escape from the penal colony mines, for all of the skills and knowledge he was gaining, for the general broadening of his horizons, for the sheer destructive  _ power  _ he was now capable of wielding.

And, above all, for all those wonderful and increasingly frequent opportunities to actually _ use _ it.

Because Infernalis was one of those rare beings with the incredible luck of not only knowing what he was good at and being able to do it, but also  _ enjoying _ it; not feeling compelled to do or be anything else.  _ And, _ on top of that, he now had a mentor who was willing to help him reach his full potential. Taking a subordinate position and striking only where he was told was a small price to pay for what he’d already gained. Let alone what he stood to gain in the long run.

And so, he was content. At least for now. True, sooner or later, in all likelihood, he’d start to chafe at the bit and want  _ more  _ than the scraps Sidious was willing to share. But that was, according to the texts he’d been ordered to read, the tradition among the Sith anyway. And it was, according to Infernalis’ own life experience, the way of things  _ everywhere. _ Eventually, this arrangement would no longer be mutually beneficial, and one of them would try to kill the other, and either succeed or be killed in his turn.

But that day was several years off. Until then, Infernalis would learn, and obey, even when he didn’t particularly want to. All in anticipation of those times when he  _ was  _ given his head.

Today, sadly, was not one of those times.

“Control, apprentice,” his master reminded him. As he had done, multiple times, since pulling Infernalis from the mines. And it was  _ probably  _ his imagination, but Infernalis would swear that his fingers were still twitching from the  _ last _ reminder.

And now Sidious had had to repeat himself  _ again. _

Things were  _ not _ really going Infernalis’ way today.

His assigned task was simple enough--there was a maze, deep under the Palace, full of twists and turns, false walls and deadly traps. Somewhere in that maze was Sidious’ four-year-old daughter. Infernalis’ mission was to find the kid and bring her back to her father, alive. Hers, he had been told, was to evade Infernalis and find her own way out.

It was, of course, also designed to pit the two of them against one another, make sure they viewed each other as  _ rivals, _ rather than risking them allying against Sidious. Not that Infernalis really considered a four-year-old Human a serious rival  _ or _ a viable ally, but--well, who could say where things would stand in a decade or so, for the two of them and their mutual lord?

Infernalis had won the game, of course. He’d spent the last decade finding his way around narrow mine tunnels, and while the hazards there were very different than the ones his master had constructed, he damn well knew how to handle a deadly maze. And, while they technically had about the same amount of experience with the Force and with this kind of exercise, there was simply no real contest between an canny adult and a little girl.

Still, the kid had actually managed to evade him for the better part of an hour. It turned out, especially given her age, Princess Lavinia was  _ very _ clever at keeping track of the traps, and at least vaguely aware of where he was. Enough that she’d almost maneuvered him into one.  _ Twice. _

So, naturally, when he’d caught up with her, he’d been frustrated, lashing out as soon as he had his target in view. And then--

_ “Control, _ apprentice.”

Infernalis blinked, halfway through completing his damned objective at  _ last. _ And, at first, annoyed at the interruption, but--well, no matter how quietly his master spoke, that voice could cut through anything and grab his attention in an instant. Infernalis had learned early on that Sidious was never,  _ ever _ ignored.

_ What is he--ah. Right. _

It seemed that he’d gotten a little...overzealous. Damn near put the kid through the wall. Not exactly helpful for bringing a target in alive, as instructed. Her neck wasn’t broken, at least, so he hadn’t failed  _ entirely. _

He dropped her, and she remained in a little heap on the floor for a second, breathing hard.

“Up, child,” Sidious ordered from behind her.

She shivered a little, and pushed herself to her feet. She wobbled, and grabbed onto the wall for support, but didn’t fall over.

Infernalis flexed his maybe-twitching hand, waiting for lightning or any of the other tricks Sidious used when he was displeased with his protege.

But nothing came. Instead, there was a long moment of tense silence, broken only by the kid’s slightly shuddery breaths.

“That’s enough for today,” Sidious finally said. “You may go, child. We will discuss your performance later. Infernalis, stay.”

Tiny thing couldn’t keep the relief off her face, as she sketched a wobbly bow in her father’s general direction and stumbled off, leaving the two Sith Lords alone.

And then Sidious was silent for a moment more, studying him, which just ratcheted up the tension in the air. Infernalis clenched his fists and remained still, feeling the anticipation build inside him--worse, in its way, than the inevitable punishment itself.

“I don’t need to tell you why you failed,” Sidious finally said.

_ I didn’t, _ Infernalis wanted to snap back, already frustrated by being left twisting in the wind for so long.  _ I caught your brat, didn’t I? Sure, I went farther than you wanted, but I  _ didn’t  _ kill her, and I would have reined myself in without you. _

But--hell, even without his more recent lessons, he’d been in prison for a decade. It took a lot less time than that, in the mines, to learn when it was and wasn’t worth mouthing off at the guards.

And in a year and more spent learning from Darth Sidious, Infernalis had yet to find a time where it was. Besides, there was a  _ lesson  _ here, and he got the point-- _ patience. _ Don’t rise to the bait. Let the frustration and anger  _ grow  _ in moments like this, but always and only under  _ his _ control.

_ Use your anger. Do not be used by it. _

“No, Master,” he said, instead, pleased with how even his voice managed to stay.

One clawlike hand snaked out from the shadows, resting on Infernalis’ head. Sparking--threatening--but not unleashing the lightning. Not yet.

“There are times, apprentice, when I will need a hammer,” Sidious said. “And there are times when I will need a blade. Do not confuse the two again.”

“No, Master,” he repeated, clenching his hand again to keep it from twitching.

Another beat of silence, and then, “I have a task for you,” Sidious said.

This didn’t mean the reprimand was over--almost certainly not; his master had a way of bringing up old lessons at the worst possible time, just to make  _ sure _ they’d stuck. Still, a new task meant  _ that  _ was a problem for another day.  _ And _ today was starting to look up, too. At the very least, it probably wouldn’t involve any more chasing little girls through booby-trapped mazes.

Sidious’ hand tightened, nails digging in just a little, drawing Infernalis’ attention back where it belonged.

“Yes, Master.”

“Two classified shipments have been interrupted,” he said. “Find those responsible and destroy them.”

Infernalis bit back a grin.  _ Time to be the hammer then, I suppose. _ “I am the extension of your will, Master.”

Sidious’ mouth tightened under his hood in a sort of smile. “Yes,” he said softly. “You are.”

A thin shiver of sparks spilled down Infernalis’ spine. He jerked a little at the pain, but didn’t scream. It wasn’t...wasn’t the worst he’d ever gotten. Not by a long shot. Just--a taste this time. A reminder.

When it faded after a moment or three, Sidious and his hand and the lightning were gone, leaving Infernalis alone in the deserted maze; waiting for his thoughts to catch up so he could think through his new mission. His new  _ opportunity. _

He waited a moment more, then stood and stretched, still feeling tight and all out of joint in the wake of that burst of lightning. Details would be waiting for him by the time he got back to his room--where exactly these interruptions had taken place, any intelligence that already existed on the people responsible. Probably not what those shipments had contained. Not that it really mattered to him at this point. Someday, perhaps, it would. When he was ready to turn and bite the hand that fed him.

But for now, like the trained attack dog he was, Infernalis would hunt them down and tear them to pieces, and afterwards be bask in the glory of pure destruction, of a job well executed. A display of strength, power--a victory.

Just like that mantra he’d memorized, in his first weeks of training-- _ Through victory, my chains are broken. The Force shall free me. _

He popped his aching jaw back into place, and smiled.

 

* * *

Bail had gotten home in the late afternoon--several hours after he’d planned. He was  _ supposed _ to have arrived fairly early that morning, before Breha got tied up in her usual meetings, but he’d been delayed getting off Coruscant and there were only so much time that could be made up in hyperspace.

Still, late afternoon meant that Winter would have finished with her lessons for the day, and he could spend an hour or two, uninterrupted, with his daughter. He headed straight for her room as soon as he got back to the Palace.

It wasn’t often that he got the chance to surprise his family, coming home unexpectedly--almost all of his travel was very public and scheduled far in advance, and what wasn’t usually had to do with fighting the Empire. So when he tapped on her door, and Winter turned around, and he saw the way her face lit up--

“Papa!”

_ I need to do this more often, _ he thought, as she barrelled into him and he crouched down to sweep her up in a proper hug. “Hello, precious,” he said, and kissed her cheek. “Oh, I missed you.”

“Missed you, too,” she said, still clinging tight. “I thought you weren’t coming ‘til tomorrow, ‘cause you weren’t here at breakfast.”

“Nope, I’m just a  _ little  _ bit late,” he said. “Was your mamma worried?”

“Nuh-uh,” Winter said, finally relaxing her grip a little. “She was kinda mad, though, ‘cause she had those cakes you really like made special for breakfast, and they don’t keep very well.”

He laughed a little at that. “Hmm. Well, I  _ am _ sorry I missed that, but somehow I think they got eaten anyway.”

Winter flushed. “One or two,” she said. They were  _ her _ favorite, too.

“I’ll find a way to make it up to your mother, either way,” he promised her. “And to you, for being so late.”

She shook her head. “You’re home now,” she told him. “For a while, right? That’s what Mamma said.”

“That’s the plan,” he confirmed. “And…”

“What?” she asked. “What, Papa?”

“Well, your mamma and I were talking, before I left to come home,” he said. “What do you think about coming with me when I go back this time?”

He and Breha had actually been discussing that for a while, off and on. Winter wouldn’t actually be in danger there, not any more than any other Senator’s child, and it would be good for her to see a little more of the galaxy. Even the parts he had always wanted to shelter her from. However she and her eventual consort ended up splitting their responsibilities, these were things she would need to know.

Besides, he had perfectly selfish reasons for it, in that he wanted her with him as much as possible. Which wasn’t nearly often enough.

_ “Really?” _ Winter said, eyes going wide. “I can really come?”

“Yes,” he said, and hugged her again.

She threw her arms around him again. “Luke told me  _ so _ many cool stories and I wanna see where you work and your apartment and--”

“One thing at a time,” he said, kissing the top of her head.

“Okay,” she said, bouncing a little. Clearly, that hadn’t really done much to dampen her enthusiasm. Not that he’d really expected it to--he remembered being eight years old and promised a trip somewhere new and exciting.

“We’ll talk to Mamma tonight at dinner, all right?” he said. “Work out all the details. And I’ll be home for a whole week first.”

“Even  _ better,” _ she proclaimed, grinning brightly up at him.

And he couldn’t help but smile back, because he absolutely agreed--he was a little bit late, but he’d made it home, and he had a few days with both her and Breha, and nothing had exploded this week. Not yet, anyway; and he refused to borrow trouble if he didn’t have to.

_ When this is all over, _ he promised himself, as he had so many times before,  _ moments like this will be the norm, rather than the bright spots I look forward to. Even if I can’t quite leave the Senate yet, if Mon and Padme still need me there; even if I’m still not home as much as I’d like-- _

“Papa?”

“Nothing, darling,” he said, and hugged her one more time. “So, tell me. How have your lessons been going? Anything new and exciting this week?”

And then she was off, chattering about the history lesson she’d finished up just before he came in, exactly as he’d hoped she would. In far more detail than he remembered--but, then again, that was Winter’s special gift, even if it  _ hadn’t _ been fresh in her mind.

He settled on the floor; she collected the datapad from her desk and nestled against him, calling up the map that had been the focus of her lesson. He held her close and let her voice wash over him as she explained it all.

This was what he wanted--all he wanted--for the rest of his life. For his family, for Padme and hers, for everyone. And even if, for now, it only came in moments, he would cherish them and make them last as long as he could.

_ And, as soon as this is over, as soon as Palpatine is gone… _

In the end, what else was he fighting for, but this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...yeah, I figured the chapter needed a nice unicorn chaser to make up for the first half ^^;; So, some light fluff with Bail that has very little to do with the plot seemed in order.
> 
> Thanks so much for stopping by! Next week's chapter as a whole shouldn't be this harsh, I hope...
> 
> ~shadowsong


	50. Part 5, Chapter 5

_ Home. _

Padme had felt a weight lift off her shoulders as soon as they’d landed in Theed. All of the low-level tension, the constant worry that she might be overheard by exactly the wrong person at the worst possible time, was gone. It had been too long--a couple of months--since her last visit. But, while she resolved to visit more often every time she came here, somehow it never quite worked out.

Partly because, unlike Bail, who had two extremely compelling reasons to go back to Alderaan as often as possible, Padme’s son was  _ with _ her. Not that she didn’t love and miss her parents and sister and nieces, of course, but...it was different. Less of a perfectly reasonable excuse, and more like a  _ selfish _ one. Like ducking out of her less pleasant duties. Staying on Imperial Center to keep working, as much as she could, felt more important.

Even this trip, technically, was for work--the Queen wanted her to introduce some specific legislation into the Senate, and had summoned her back to Naboo to go over the details. Still, she  _ was _ home, and that feeling of relief when she stepped off her ship and breathed in the familiar air was just as powerful as always.

_ Someday, _ she promised herself, as she always did,  _ when all of this is over, I’ll make the time to visit more often. _

She’d still brought Luke with her, of course, and made arrangements to visit with her family between meetings. There probably wouldn’t be time to slip off to Varykino, unfortunately, since this wasn’t a  _ real _ vacation and she needed to be back on Imperial Center before too long; the plan was to leave tomorrow, or the next day at the latest.

But she’d be visiting again early next month, anyway, she reasoned. Pooja was turning fourteen, and barring a crisis or Palpatine himself intervening and sending her elsewhere, she had every intention of taking at least two weeks--one in Theed with her family, and one at Varykino for some quiet time with only her handmaidens and her son. Away from the spotlight. Especially since she had a packet of letters to hide, ones she’d received from Ani since her last trip to the lake (she knew she should burn them instead, but how could she destroy the only pieces of him she had?), and of course she wanted to take a moment to visit the grave.

That was next month, though. She really should focus on  _ this _ trip, at least until everything duty required of her had been handled.

They arrived at the spaceport midmorning, and after she took a moment to savor the feeling, she and her handmaidens split up--Sabe and Dorme went with her to the Palace, while Motee and Elle took Luke to visit his grandparents, where they would all meet for dinner that night.

The working day was productive, if over far too quickly--she and the Queen had a decent draft of the bill she planned to introduce, and she’d met with a few other important local politicians, each of them with their own opinions on how she should vote on several upcoming matters. Then, dinner with her parents, which ended with her and Sola out in the garden with a bottle of wine to unwind.

And even that conversation turned--professional, in a slightly unexpected way.

“Pooja’s planning to ask you for an internship,” Sola said. “Maybe tonight, maybe for a birthday present next month.”

“Really? Huh.” Thinking about it, though, Padme wasn’t actually all that surprised. She might not have  _ guessed _ without prompting, since she hadn’t spent as much time with either of her nieces as she might have liked. But she  _ had _ spent enough to look back and see that this idea wasn’t coming out of nowhere. 

“She’s planning out her whole argument now, probably,” Sola said, with a faint smile. “Or, rehearsing it, maybe. She’s been thinking about this for a while, I think, even if she only mentioned it to me after we got your message last week. Anyway, I thought I should give you a head’s up before she cornered you. So you could plan ahead how you were going to respond. And...and let her down gently if you wanted to say no.”

Padme blinked, and sat up a little straighter. “Why would I…?”

Well, in all honesty, she hadn’t ever actually thought about bringing in  _ any _ intern before--mostly because she didn’t really  _ need _ one; while not technically in her handmaidens’ job description, between the four of them and Threepio and Padme herself, the things that tended to be assigned to interns in other Senators’ offices already got done.

But that didn’t mean she  _ objected _ to the idea, necessarily. And if she  _ had _ thought about it, Pooja would have been a serious contender if she’d applied. She was bright and talented, and genuinely  _ interested _ in public service, unlike Ryoo, who had completed her mandated years and moved on as quickly as she could. Did Sola think Padme hadn’t noticed Pooja’s talents, because she spent so much of her time away?

No, that couldn’t be it, or Sola would have been making her own arguments in her daughter’s favor, not explicitly giving Padme a way out.

Pooja  _ was  _ younger than most Senate interns, but that probably wasn’t the problem, either--Padme herself had only been a few months older when she’d taken the throne, let alone been elected; and she’d held other offices for two years before  _ that. _ Even if Sola had private objections on that score, she would know better than to think Padme would.

Was it the potential for accusations of nepotism that worried Sola, maybe? That  _ was _ a concern, sure; but Padme could sponsor a second intern to make up for that. Either at the same time, or after Pooja’s turn ended and she moved on. Besides, handling any such accusations in the press wouldn’t be difficult, if she even got any. And Sola probably knew that, too.

So maybe--

Padme frowned.  _ Is she...is she worried for Pooja’s  _ safety, _ working for me? _

True, Imperial Center  _ was _ dangerous these days. But not exactly in the way that--that  _ wasn’t _ why Padme hadn’t brought in an intern before now. At least not consciously. If things had been that unstable, after all, she wouldn’t risk keeping Luke with her. Even though an intern would be more  _ visible _ than her son, her security was certainly up to the task of protecting one. Especially since that would actually be one of the most normal, unsuspicious things Padme had done since the Republic had fallen.

Not that she would have put anyone, let alone a young child or teenager, at risk just for  _ cover, _ of course, but...well, the thought occurred, now that the concept had come up.

Though, she thought with a faint stab of guilt, she really  _ should _ have thought of it sooner. She had a duty to the future of her world and the galaxy as a whole, and part of that was advising and providing experience and opportunities to the next generation of politicians. And it wouldn’t be  _ too _ hard to keep even a particularly bright young mind away from her...less legal activities…

Which Sola shouldn’t know about, anyway. But the general background danger--she might. Especially if she thought Padme hadn’t hired someone already because of that.

But that was only a guess. The likeliest of everything she’d come up with, maybe, but not a sure thing.

“Do you...do you want me to tell her no?” she asked, very carefully, instead of trying to counter that problem. Just in case she was wrong, and it  _ was _ one of the others. Or something else that she hadn’t thought of. Or even it was just that Sola interpreted the fact that she hadn’t hired anyone before to mean that she really  _ didn’t _ want an intern at all.

Sola didn’t answer right away, staring pensively into her wine glass before sighing and setting it aside. “I thought about that,” she admitted. “About asking you to turn her down. But...Pooja  _ really  _ wants this. She looks up to you, more than you know, and I think even if she didn’t have the legendary Queen Amidala in her family, she’d want to spend her life in public service. But either way, she doesn’t want  _ local  _ politics, she wants  _ diplomacy, _ and this is the best way for her to learn that. And you...well, Luke is safe, has been all these years, and…”

So, safety  _ was _ Sola’s primary worry. “Of course he has been,” Padme said. “And Pooja will be--would be--safe with me. As safe as anyone on Imperial Center is.” An unfortunate but necessary qualifier. Padme tried, very hard, not to make promises she couldn’t keep. Especially not to Sola and her parents, since she lied to them so much in other ways.

“I know,” Sola said. “I trust you with my daughter, of course I do, I know you would never--would never put her at unnecessary risk, but…”

“But…?”

There was a long moment of silence. “I don’t want her involved, Padme,” Sola said quietly.

Padme took a minute to let that sink in. And all it implied.

_ She knows. She  _ knows.

A hundred questions, at varying levels of paranoia, spun through Padme’s brain.

And then the guilt. Oh, the  _ guilt. _

She had tried  _ so hard _ to keep her family out of danger--they’d already had  _ more _ than enough of that, in the detention camps during the Trade Federation occupation--which meant keeping them in the dark about what she was doing now. What she never told them, she reasoned, they could never be arrested and tortured, or otherwise--blackmailed, coerced, forced to divulge.

_ Maybe that’s part of why I don’t come home very often, too. For all the good it’s apparently done. _

She swallowed, and pushed the guilt down as best she could.

“How…” she finally said, then cleared her throat. “How much do you--”

“Enough,” Sola said. “I know enough. Because I know  _ you.” _

She nodded, and opened her mouth to answer, or maybe to apologize-- _ for the danger, and the lies; I will not,  _ cannot  _ apologize for the work itself _ \--but her sister cut her off.

“And it’s not that I don’t--I understand why you do it. I do. And I know--I only met him once or twice, while you were still in the Palace, but...but I’ve seen what he’s doing. What he’s  _ done. _ Your cause is...it’s  _ right. _ It’s just. It’s...these things...these things you do, they absolutely need to be done, this war  _ needs _ to be fought, and you’re in a unique position to do so. I wouldn’t--would  _ never _ ask you to stop fighting, especially for something like this. But...but Pooja is--she’s my  _ child. _ My baby girl. And I don’t want...I don’t want to…” Her voice broke a little.

“I know,” Padme said. Because, for all the arguments she could make, about how  _ she _ had taken substantial risks at Pooja’s age, and Ahsoka and so many others had been at  _ war _ that young…

_ It’s different, when it’s  _ your _ child in danger. I wonder how my parents managed to bear it, all those years… _

_ She _ could barely stand it herself, and Luke wasn’t--he was only peripherally involved, and that because of the friends he had made, not any active work. And he would  _ stay _ that way until he was at least a teenager, if she had anything to say about it.

And Leia...her Leia, lightyears away, wasn’t doing any active work yet either, and probably wouldn’t for the same amount of time as Luke. But she  _ was _ already learning how to be a Jedi; how to  _ fight. _

(Padme had known that was coming; she and Anakin had discussed that years ago, in some of their earlier letters. When he and Obi-Wan would start training Leia properly. But it was one thing to say “someday; probably when she’s somewhere between seven and ten” when that was still distant enough to be abstract, and another thing entirely for it to be  _ actually happening.) _

“I know,” she repeated. Because she did. More than she could ever tell Sola, she did.

She nodded, relieved. “And please don’t think this means I don’t…” Sola took her hand, and squeezed it. “I would be  _ so _ proud if Pooja grew up to be just like you. I just...I just want…”

Padme set her own glass down and put her other hand on top of Sola’s, squeezing in her turn. “You want her to grow up first. And not as...not as fast as I had to.” Because she  _ had _ grown up too fast. She’d known that for years. And, while being a Senate intern probably wouldn’t mean that kind of pressure, being a secret Rebel agent might.

“Exactly,” Sola said.

“I understand,” Padme said. “And I’ll do everything I can keep her out of it. I promise.”  _ At least for a few years, until she’s eighteen or twenty. Old enough that--old enough that she’ll  _ know _ what she’s signing up for. If she wants to sign up. I still won’t bring her in on purpose, but I’ll stop trying to shut her out if she comes to me and asks. _

“Thank you,” Sola said, earnestly, then reached for her wine glass and deliberately changed the subject to lighten the mood. “I haven’t told Mom and Dad Pooja wants this,” she said. “To go work for you on Imperial Center, I mean. I think they’re still hoping she’ll turn out more like me, and settle down and start a family  _ before _ she’s thirty.”

“I settled!” Padme protested. “I have a son. And I was  _ twenty-seven _ when I brought him home, thank you.”

“Hey, this is what Mom and Dad think, not me,” Sola said, grinning at her. “Honestly, I’m actually glad Pooja’s a little more career-focused, at least for now. Ryoo keeps bringing the most  _ awful _ girls home. I don’t know  _ where  _ she got her taste in potential romantic partners, but I’m hoping she grows out of it.”

“Are they  _ objectively  _ awful, or do they just have the temerity to date your precious daughter?” Padme asked, arching an eyebrow. She couldn’t help but remember how Mom and Dad hadn’t approved of most of  _ Sola’s _ exes, especially when she was Ryoo’s age.

“Objectively awful,” she said decisively. “She’ll probably bring a new one over for Pooja’s birthday. You’ll see.”

“Hmm,” Padme said, and left it at that, retrieving her own glass. “...am I a terrible aunt if I’m almost looking forward to it?”

“Well, maybe not  _ terrible…” _

Padme just laughed, and threw a balled-up napkin in her sister’s general direction. 

Sola ducked, and stuck her tongue out at her.  _ “Real _ mature, Padme,” she said, but she was laughing, too.

And, just like those first few seconds at the spaceport, when she breathed in her native air, Padme felt the warm, comforting warmth of  _ home _ wrap around her like a blanket.

_ I really  _ do _ need to come more often, _ she thought, wistfully. And she knew it wasn’t possible, not just now, but...

Someday, she would. Someday, she would stop spending too much of her time on Imperial Center--on  _ Coruscant-- _ and nowhere near enough at home. And there would be no more lies, no more secrets. No more putting her family in danger.

_ Someday, _ she promised herself, as always,  _ when all of this is over, I will make that happen. My  _ whole _ family will be  _ here, _ and together, and...someday, I will make it happen. Someday, I will make the time. _


	51. Part 5, Chapter 6

Obi-Wan and Anakin were not, strictly speaking, searching for Darth Infernalis.

As with Darth Specter, they, along with Master Yoda and Ahsoka, had decided that they lacked the resources to focus on Infernalis exclusively for any particular length of time. However, they had  _ no _ intention of being caught off guard again, the way they had been when Specter had found Anakin.

Which meant that, when they came across an opportunity to try and learn a little more about their enemy, they certainly weren’t going to let it pass by without a very clear, immediate reason. Because even if they were a step behind him, even if they couldn’t...couldn’t save the people he had killed, or even do much to help the people he had hurt, they could learn something that might prove vital when their paths finally did cross.

And prevent any more limbs from being lost when they did.

So, they were here, where, only a few days ago, Infernalis had eliminated a group of pirates who had been attacking highly classified Imperial convoys. Not an affiliated group, or anyone Obi-Wan knew personally, which of course didn’t really mitigate the slaughter, but…

Well, if he were truly honest with himself, it...mattered. To a point.

And the fact that  _ Infernalis _ had been sent to deal with the attacks, even as a probable test of his skills, meant that the disrupted convoys had likely been carrying something extremely valuable to the Emperor. Likely related to the giant infrastructure project that Obi-Wan  _ knew _ was going on somewhere, though he lacked the necessary details to identify exactly what it was. Which was another reason, after he and Anakin had wrapped up their last mission elsewhere and caught wind of this opportunity, that they had decided to take advantage of it. The two of them were planning to break into the shipping offices later, see what they could find in the agency’s files, in the hope that they might gather more intelligence and finally figure out exactly what the Emperor was building.

But first, Infernalis.

They’d found the location of the skirmish, just outside the hangar, with little difficulty. The bodies, of course, had already been removed, as had much of the overt evidence. But they’d been scouring what was left for about twenty minutes now, and they had the knowledge and experience to read between the lines and put together a decent picture of the being responsible.

“Any thoughts?” Obi-Wan asked, running his hands over a lightsaber gouge in the rock, trying to trace the faint, oily, lingering impression of the being who had carved it.  _ He uses a single blade, I think. Not jar’kai, and not a saberstaff, either; but, judging by the angle here, his blade is maybe a little longer than average, or maybe he just has a particularly long reach. _

“He doesn’t have anything to prove,” Anakin said. He was crouched in the middle of the skirmish area, examining some of the half-faded footprints in the blood and dust and ash. “Not like Specter did. He...knows who he is. What he’s worth.”

“I agree,” he said. Which meant, likely, that they wouldn’t be able to off-balance Infernalis very easily. At least not in that way. There  _ was _ probably a corresponding weakness, or vanity, that they  _ could _ play on, but Obi-Wan doubted there would be enough information here for them to find it. “And he seems to be less interested in concealment,” he added, after studying the slash and burn patterns in the wall for another few seconds.

“Yeah,” Anakin said, and stood up. “Or at least he’s much more direct in his approach. Less hit-and-fade then Specter was.”

Obi-Wan nodded. It wasn’t that there was an indication that Infernalis had deliberately drawn out the fight, exactly. Both apprentices were, by all appearances, swift and decisive; and this skirmish probably hadn’t lasted much longer than any they could attribute to Specter. And both were equally likely to set an ambush.

But once their target walked into the ambush and the trap was sprung, their tactics diverged significantly. There was a sort of-- _ solidity _ to Infernalis’ presence, where Specter had been, well, aptly named. Striking from the shadows and moving on to his next target before the first even processed what had happened. Unless, as when he had come after Anakin, he had a very good reason to draw attention.

Infernalis, on the other hand, would have been impossible to ignore, and likely wouldn’t have tried anything like that  it . Unless, Obi-Wan supposed, he had a very good reason to pass unseen.

Obi-Wan frowned a little, turning in a slow circle and broadening his focus, turning his attention to the specific location Infernalis had picked for his ambush. It was not one  _ he _ would have picked--but there  _ was _ something vaguely familiar about it, something that would read as an advantage under different circumstances, perhaps; if he could just--

_ Ah. I see it now. _

“I think,” he said slowly, “we might find some trace of our new friend in prison records. Look at where he chose to set his ambush--not the best cover from the air, for example, but a lot of tight corners to trap opponents in, and likely to be in the security cameras’ blind spots.” Exactly the sort of place someone in prison would identify as a good position from which to pick a fight with another inmate.

Anakin considered, eyeing the space, and nodded. “Yeah,” he said again. “Yeah, I see what you’re saying. Plus, he’s brutal and efficient, and he stands his ground. He doesn’t linger when he doesn’t have to--but he...displays.  _ Dominates.” _

“Yes.”  _ Much like stabbing a man with a fork, _ Obi-Wan added in the privacy of his own mind. Unlike Specter, who had been more a thief in the night--just as efficient and not at all less brutal, in his way, but.

It was a fairly radical change, going from an eager-to-please teenager who relied on speed and stealth and surprise, to a seasoned adult who relied on overwhelming displays of force. One who had spent significant time in, by the looks of things, a high-security prison, while Specter had been, so far as Anakin could tell, a solitary street thief who had never been caught. Obi-Wan wondered exactly why the Emperor had made the shift.

_ Something that I think will take a great deal of consideration to figure out. Assuming we  _ can _ even fathom Palpatine’s motives here. _

He sighed. “Can you spot anything else that might be relevant?” he asked.

Anakin shook his head. “I don’t think we can get much more from here. Not at this point. But I want to see if we can find security footage when we search the office too, to confirm what we’ve guessed, if we can Maybe get a little more, even. If we’re lucky.”

Unlikely--given the camera blind spots--but they might get  _ something _ out of watching Infernalis’ approach and exit. Species, at least basic body type, and how he moved, if nothing else. Useful information, when preparing to confront him. Especially if he did decide to take a more subtle, Specter-like approach when he came after  _ them. _

“All right,” he said. “Why don’t you look into that, while I see what I can pull from the shipping manifests?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Anakin agreed.

Once the decision was made, no further discussion was necessary. The two of them headed for the security office, taking an irregular path to avoid the remaining cameras and silence any guards. Obi-Wan took the lead, with Anakin half a step behind, to cover him.

Although--

Looking closer at the cameras, something seemed slightly  _ off _ about the few he spotted.

Anakin signaled briefly; he’d noticed it, too.

_ Someone else is here. _

And not a shipping company official, and probably not any Imperials, either; they wouldn’t have disabled the cameras.

_ Another thief. Maybe friendly, maybe not. Better not to take chances. _

Obi-Wan nodded once, and gestured for Anakin to take a wider loop. He nodded and leapt out of view, circling around to find another entrance.

The threat was  _ probably _ low-level, or they’d most likely have had more warning than the cameras. Most likely, one or two of the pirates had circled back to try and salvage what they could, or possibly seek vengeance for their fallen comrades. He and Anakin could flank them with little difficulty, detain them, and have an even better chance at real intel, on both Infernalis and the convoys.

Further signs of trouble as he entered the post; the lone security guard who had been on duty was dead just inside the door, slumped over with a neat blaster wound in the center of his forehead.

He could sense Anakin already in position at the other end of the hallway, as they closed in on where their unexpected companion was, in the main control room.

A raised eyebrow, when they met-- _ any other trouble? _

Anakin shook his head.  _ One dead guard. You? _

_ The same. Shall we? _

He grinned, shifted his grip on his lightsaber, and slammed the door button.

It slid open to reveal a single intruder, a young Nautolan woman at the main desk. She spun around, bringing a blaster already in her hand to bear and--

_ \--wait! _

Obi-Wan held out a hand to stop Anakin. “Moonshot?”

She blinked, and lowered her weapon, her presence thrumming with surprise.  _ “Ben?” _

“Yes,” he said, and put his ‘saber away, relieved. Partly because their unexpected companion was not a threat after all, but largely because…

He’d gone back, about two months after that-- _ disaster _ of an Empire Day mission, once Anakin was safe and at least well on the way towards recovering, and tried to re-establish contact with Moonshot and her cell, but they had vanished by the time he arrived. He had...he had feared the worst.

“It’s good to see you again,” he went on. “Good to see you’re all right. This is--”

“Kitster,” Anakin supplied. “Good to meet you.”

“Likewise,” she said, and flashed him a brief smile. “Sorry about the--” She gestured at her gun.

“Don’t worry about it,” Obi-Wan said.

“It’s not like we didn’t have the same reaction, when we figured out we weren’t alone,” Anakin added.

“Yeah,” she said, then paused. “It’s...it’s good to run into you, too. We...uh, we weren’t sure you’d made it out alive. We waited, a couple days, for you to make contact, but…”

He nodded. “Things got--complicated. But what about the others? Are they…?”

“Lucky didn’t make it,” she said, very softly. “But the rest of us got out, at least mostly intact. Cleaver figured we should scatter, afterwards, all the same. Especially after I did a little more digging into Thrawn. He’s got one hell of a reputation.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “Yes, I know.”

“We haven’t kept in close touch, but we all know  _ how, _ just in case. We didn’t want to disintegrate. Just…”

“Disappear for a while,” Anakin finished for her.

“Exactly.” She, sighed and shook her head. “What were you guys doing here, anyway? If it’s all right to ask.”

“Couple things, really,” Anakin said, after exchanging a glance with Obi-Wan.

“We’re interested in what the attacked convoys were shipping,” he added. “Along with anything about the being who took out the pirates that were responsible.”

“There’s not a lot here, unfortunately,” Moonshot said. “I’ve been going over the system in a lot of depth, but the official investigators all already wiped it pretty clean. There’s some security footage, though--the guy you’re looking for is Mirialan, and big for his species.”

“It’s a start,” Anakin said. “Can I take a look?”

“Sure,” she said, and got out of the chair to make room for him.

“Thanks,” he said, and pulled out a datacard to start downloading everything he could. They could go over it in more detail later, maybe find something the Imperial cleaning crew had missed. Not that there was likely to be much, but every little bit helped.

“What about you?” Obi-Wan asked. “Were you hunting down anything in particular here?”

She shook her head again, tentacles swaying. “Just general route and security detail information. I’m mostly smuggling food and medical supplies these days, stuff that’s not actually  _ illegal _ to have on my ship, just...illegal or prohibitively expensive wherever I’m taking it. But I like to keep my hand in, about the bigger things. Feed information to some of the others, or...or other friends of mine, if nothing else. So after this depot was cleaned out, I figured it was worth seeing what I could find.”

Which made perfect sense. “Any luck?”

“Not really,” Moonshot admitted. “Like I said, the cleaners were pretty damn thorough.” She paused for a minute, then glanced over at Obi-Wan again. “But...while we’re on the subject, about my old team and me being in loose contact?”

“Yes?”

“Well, we are,” she said. “So...so if you and your people have something big planned…”

_ She could bring her cell on board. What’s left of it, anyway--if they’ve scattered, something may have happened to the others, not just Lucky. _ That was--very encouraging news. “We don’t,” Obi-Wan said. “Not at this time, anyway. But…”

“Someday we will,” Anakin said, looking up from the screen. “And in the meantime, we  _ are _ trying to bring people together. Form links between cells that aren’t just--well, Ben, mostly, actually. Sometimes--uh, Ashla.”

_ We...probably should have taken the time to iron out default code names for situations like this sooner, _ Obi-Wan thought.  _ So he didn’t stumble over Ahsoka’s like that. And so I’d know which of his aliases he was going to pick  _ before  _ he does it. _ Anakin had six or seven names that he rotated between at random; he mostly used them to add another layer of secrecy to his trips to the farm. None of them would hold up on a Core world, but for getting through what little spaceport security there was on Tatooine, or for providing a code name to another resistance cell, they were sufficient.

Moonshot nodded. “Well, even apart from my old cell, I have some contacts I could help you get in touch with,” she offered. “I mean...it’s mostly people like we were. Scattered cells of a couple dozen people at most. But some of them are also a lot more  _ mobile _ than we were.”

Which had been one of the bigger problems in trying to integrate all the--he hesitated to call them  _ field units. _ All the active combat cells, then. Most of the ones he’d made contact with were still so focused on their local problems that, apart from being willing to trade intel and supplies along the lines he’d set up over the past seven years, they weren’t in a position to look at the larger picture. And he couldn’t really blame them. In the places where things were bad enough, where the Empire’s hand was heavy enough, to spur people into action, the local problems usually  _ needed _ that kind of attention. 

But if Moonshot could put them in touch with  _ mobile _ cells, that were already employing hit-and-fade tactics on a larger scale, and  _ would _ be willing to at least take steps towards a wider battleground, to fighting the problem at the  _ source, _ rather than desperately trying to keep their corner of the galaxy from bleeding to death…

It wouldn’t be the kind of force they would need, not yet, but it was a step in the right direction.

“We would appreciate that, very much,” he said. “Thank you, Moonshot.”

“Of course,” she said. “I’m sorry I can’t do much more than give you names right now, but…”

“It’s a lot,” Anakin said. “Reliable contacts mean a  _ lot, _ Moonshot, believe me.”

She nodded. “And--you know, if you guys need a courier somewhere, my wanted posters aren’t too widespread. Even after our last meeting.” She grinned a little at Obi-Wan. “So I can probably get--maybe not all the way to the Core, but deeper into the Mid Rim than you two probably could.”

“We’ll remember that,” Obi-Wan said. With any luck, they wouldn’t need it for something so drastic, but it certainly would have made getting Anakin’s prosthetic a great deal easier, if they’d had a reliable courier of their own to turn to.

“Great,” she said. “I--can’t stay much longer, or I’ll miss my ride, but...do you have a way I can get in touch with you? Dead drop or something? That’s probably the safest bet.”

“We’ve got a couple,” he said. “Kitster?”

Anakin, who helpfully always had hard-copy writing materials on him, wrote out a couple locations. “We try to check these as often as we can, but sometimes it’s a while before we get there,” he said.

“Got it,” she said, sticking the paper into a pouch in her belt. “I’ll be in touch as soon as I can. In the meantime…” She tore off the bottom of the page, grabbed Anakin’s pen without asking, and scribbled down a couple things. “These are some people you can start with. Tell ‘em Druthi sent you. They’ll know who you mean.”

Which may or may not have been her real name, but as long as it opened those doors for them, Obi-Wan didn’t really need to know more. “Right,” he said.

The console chimed softly.

“Shift change,” Anakin said, glancing at the screen. “In ten minutes. We should go, too.” He pulled the datacard out of the machine.

Obi-Wan nodded. “Thank you, Moonshot,” he said. “Or--I’m sorry, would you prefer…?”

She shook her head. “Either,” she said. “I should go. I’ll see you soon--it was nice meeting you, Kitster. And...both of you, good luck.”

“May the Force be with you,” Obi-Wan replied softly.

She nodded and disappeared down the back hallway.

Anakin, beside him, let out a breath. “So...that was...good. Really,  _ really _ good. The whole day has been...good.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said. “It was.”  _ Even if we turn out to be completely wrong about Infernalis, even if we don’t get anything else off that datacard...finding Moonshot alive and gaining a new set of contacts is has been one of the most solid  _ wins _ we’ve had in a very long time. _

He started to say something else, paused, then shook his head. “I think we should go, before it decides to explode or something.”

“Things don’t generally  _ decide  _ to explode, Anakin,” he said.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “I mean,  _ really _ sure? Because, I mean, in my experience...”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “Come on, I’d rather not have to fight my way through security again.”

“Yeah, good point,” he said, then double-checked to make sure the datacard was secure. “After you, Master.”

He nodded once, pulled out his lightsaber just in case, and headed for the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! Sorry this chapter is so late, work/life/etc. intervened...
> 
> Also! The bonus I mentioned a couple weeks ago (for one whole year of _Precipice_ ) is up on [my writing tumblr](https://shadowsong26fic.tumblr.com/post/167424219747/precipice-bonus-fic), if you want to check it out!
> 
> ~shadowsong


	52. Part 5, Chapter 7

_Well,_ that _went well,_ Ahsoka thought, peering up at the hole in the ceiling.

Neither of them was hurt, at least—not seriously anyway; a few bruises apiece, but she’d at least managed to slow their fall enough that that was it. It also helped that she’d managed to make sure _she_ ended up on the bottom. She could take the impact a lot better than Leia could.

Getting _out,_ on the other hand...yeah, that was gonna be a challenge.

The hole up above them was—well, if Ahsoka had been by herself, it wouldn’t have really been a problem. She could jump out, easy, and manage her exit so she wouldn’t just crash right back through when she landed on the surface. But it wasn’t _quite_ big enough for her to fit through while holding Leia, and the landing would be that much riskier besides. And Leia probably wouldn’t be able to make the jump by herself.

She and Leia had spent the day sneaking through this forest, practicing techniques for simple recon. They hadn’t been on an _actual_ mission, of course, just scouting the best way back to the spaceport where they’d left her ship from their campsite. So, they’d been looking for trails or other detritus left by sentients, so they could be either tracked or avoided, depending on the situation; and Ahsoka had been teaching Leia how to identify them as distinct from game trails. And figure out which natural trails, if any, were safe to follow, either for resources or to get a better vantage for a scouting mission.

And, on the subject of gaining a better vantage (and because Leia loved climbing things), they’d gone up into the trees to get a look around. Which had gone fine for the first half-kilometer or so, but then...

“Sorry,” Leia said. “Um. I _swear_ the branch looked sturdier than that, and I’m usually pretty good at telling…”

Which wouldn’t have actually been an issue, if the ground beneath them had been more solid; but there was some kind of (fortunately long-abandoned) bunker or hiding place underneath, supported by mostly-rotted old timbers—probably a relic of some long-ago war or civil strife on this planet. Or maybe a mine; Ahsoka had no idea if there were any mineral resources here, but just going by design, this _could_ have been part of a set of mine tunnels. If she had the time, or the resources, it might have been worth mapping them properly someday. Refurbishing them, even, for a future Rebel hideout or supply cache…

Well, whatever this cavern had originally been, and whatever use she and her friends might get out of the tunnels in the future, _today,_ the supposedly-solid ground had buckled beneath her and Leia when they’d landed, dropping them several dozen meters deeper onto _actually_ solid rock.

Ahsoka shook her head. “Not your fault,” she assured her. “These things happen, even when you know what you’re doing, and you’re still learning.”

Which didn’t say all that much for _her,_ except that, in her defense, she’d been a little more focused on avoiding what looked very much like the nest of some kind of a bird of prey halfway down the treetrunk. The bird, at least, hadn’t noticed them--or, if it had, it hadn’t cared. Small favors.

Not that that made all that much of a difference now, of course. She sighed, and poked at a tear in her sleeve. “Your dad is gonna kill me, though,” she informed Leia.

Leia wrinkled her nose, and stared up at the very small opening to the cavern. “No, he’s not. I mean, I’m _supposed_ to be learning how to do stuff like this, right? Get out of traps, or solve other problems and handle accidents and stuff.”

“Sure,” Ahsoka said. “Your dad’s _still_ gonna kill me, because we didn’t plan this one out ahead of time.”

Leia sighed. “Daddy’s dumb sometimes,” she decided, and flopped back.

“He just worries about you,” Ahsoka said. “But, on the subject of learning how to get out of traps…”

“Right,” she said, and sat up again. “Um.” She squinted up at the hole again. “…could we climb the walls?”

Ahsoka ran a hand along them. “Hm. I don’t think so. Too smooth.” _And not stable enough for me to carve out handholds we could use to climb up, either. The_ last _thing we need is a further collapse._ Same problem with her jumping up and widening the hole, then coming back for the kid. The odds that she’d bring down more of the ceiling than she needed were a little too high for comfort.

And, unfortunately, it was just the two of them on this trip. Anakin and Rex were running down a possible lead on a weapons research facility they’d found in some of the data Anakin and Obi-Wan had stolen a few weeks ago, and Obi-Wan was trying to establish contact with one of the cells his friend Moonshot has pointed them towards. So calling for help to extract them from above was not an option. They’d have to get themselves up and out somehow.

She pulled out one of her lightsabers and ignited it so they could see a little better. Worst case scenario, they _could_ go laterally--whatever this tunnel system was, it _had_ to have an actual entrance somewhere. But that would take time to find, and there was a good chance that, even with the Force to guide them, they’d be lost for a while. Maybe as long as a couple days. _Not_ ideal.

But, fortunately, there were bits and pieces of broken support timbers scattered around. Several of them were big--and hopefully solid--enough that they could maybe be used to piece together a ladder. Leia, at least, could climb up that—though Ahsoka wouldn’t trust her own weight to it—and she could spot her on the way, and work out the landing once they got up there and she could read the ground a little more clearly.

And, if that didn’t work, they’d just have to wander the tunnels until they found a way out.

“All right, I think I’ve got an idea,” she said. “Do you still have the rope with you, or did you drop it?”

“Um.” Leia checked her pack. “Got it!”

“Great. Okay, I want you to find the biggest and most solid pieces of wood you can.”

She nodded and the two of them got to work.

Ahsoka kept an eye on Leia’s search, sensing for any type of danger from the pieces she picked--unseen bits of rot, or potentially venomous insects making a home. But Leia, it seemed, was smarter than she’d given her credit for. She stopped halfway through picking up at least three bits that looked like some of the best, glowered at them, and moved on.

“I think we’ve got enough now,” Ahsoka said, after about a half hour. “Let’s start tying them together, see if we can make a big enough ladder.”

“Okay,” Leia said, and sat down next to her, taking half of the pile of wood. She watched Ahsoka binding them together for a minute, then started copying her.

They worked in silence for a few minutes, then Leia shifted abruptly and muttered, _“Ow,”_ followed by--

A word that a seven-year-old _probably_ shouldn’t know.

“What happened?” Ahsoka asked. “You okay?”

“Splinter,” she said. “I forgot my gloves back on the ship, plus it’s hard to tie knots when I’m wearing ‘em.”

“Let me see,” Ahsoka said, setting her own wood aside and taking Leia’s hand. Fortunately, the sliver wasn’t in too deep. “All right, I got this.” She did have a basic medkit on her, always; she grabbed the tweezers and started working it out. “Also, this is probably the part where I’m supposed to tell you not to swear.”

“I promise never to do it again until the next time,” Leia said solemnly. “Ow!”

“Sorry,” she said, biting back a smile and adjusting the angle of the tweezers and starting to pull again, very gently. “Eh, I guess I’m already in trouble, and _that_ part can be our secret.” Even if the accident itself probably couldn’t, especially if they wanted to use these caves later. “Just don’t say that word in front of your dad, okay?”

“Where d’you think I _learned_ it?” Leia said, rolling her eyes.

 _...good point._ “When he’s fixing things for your uncle and they’re not cooperating?” she guessed.

“Mostly,” Leia said.

“Some things never change,” she said fondly, setting the sliver aside and pulling out the disinfectant and her smallest bacta patch. “All right, you’re all set. Be careful, okay?”

“Uh-huh,” Leia said, and started back to her pile. Then she hesitated for a second, staring down at her bandaged hand. “...hey, Aunt ‘Soka, can I ask you something? Since we’re stuck down here and everything?”

“Sure,” she said. “I mean, I can’t promise I’ll answer, but if I don’t I’ll at least tell you why.”

“Sure,” Leia said. “Um. Do you ever...do you have dreams?” she asked. “About...about stuff that’s happening somewhere else?”

 _...oh, boy._ Anakin had at least warned her about  _that._

She picked her words carefully before answering. “Well, I’ve never really dreamed about the _present_ like that before,” Ahsoka said. “Or at least not clearly enough that I could tell that’s what it was. I mean, before I ran into your dad and Uncle Rex, I _did_ dream about them and Uncle Obi-Wan sometimes.” Those hadn’t been true visions--not like that time with Padme and Aurra Sing on Alderaan. Just...vague impressions, that they were _out there._ And she never remembered the dreams in any detail when she woke up. Still, it was probably the closest thing to Leia’s dreams that she’d ever experienced.

“Right,” Leia said. “I think...I have dreams sometimes, which I guess someone already told you, but I think they’re kinda like that? They’re not _warnings_ or anything. Those feel different. It’s like…it’s like this whole other person living in my head, with a whole other life all their own.”

“That’s more detail than I ever got,” Ahsoka said. “Does that bother you? That you pick up so much?”

“No,” she said. “Not most of the time. _Sometimes_ it’s weird, I guess, but I always know what’s me and what’s the dream.”

“Which is important,” Ahsoka said. “Do your dreams ever make you want to get involved with...whatever this other person is struggling with, and you can’t? Is that what you’re worried about?”

“Not exactly,” Leia said. “Well, sometimes. When they’re really upset about something, or trying to help someone and can’t so they get frustrated. But it’s...I mean, _most_ of the time, it’s sort of...nice, actually, ‘cause I get to see all these places I wouldn’t believe in if they were just pictures. Like the silver planet, and the green place.” She paused. “But...see, the thing is, this other person in my head is a _lot_ nicer than I am.”

“Oh, yeah?” she asked.

“Uh-huh,” Leia said, wrapping another cord around the joined sticks. “I think that’s gonna hold, right?”

Ahsoka tugged at it, then nodded. “Yeah, that seems pretty solid.”

“Okay,” she said, and started piecing together another set of wood pieces.

Ahsoka added Leia’s to her own pile of finished rungs and started attaching them to each other, building the ladder itself. She didn’t say anything else just yet--Leia would probably get to the heart of her question without actual prompting. That was probably better, in the long run, anyway, for both of them. It would _definitely_ make the discussion a whole lot clearer, if Ahsoka let Leia explain and then asked for clarification if she needed it, instead of making assumptions.

And, sure enough, Leia was only quiet for a minute or so before picking up where she’d left off. “It’s actually kind of good. I mean, it helps. That they’re such a nice person.”

“What do you mean?”

Leia frowned. “Well, sometimes, I get mad. Or, like, when Daddy got—when he got really hurt, before, with his leg. I wanted to do _really_ mean things to the person responsible. And I talked about it with Uncle Obi-Wan later, and he said that that wasn’t…that that didn’t make me a bad person or anything.”

 _Because_ everyone _has knee-jerk reactions, and impulsive thoughts, and not all of those are good, or Light,_ Ahsoka thought. _But it’s how you process them, what you_ do _with them, that really matters._

“But…I mean, I dunno if this other person has thoughts like that, but if they do it’s not anywhere _near_ as much or as strong as I do, I don’t think,” Leia went on. “So, like…when I do, I can stop and think about how _they’d_ react, and it makes me a nicer person. …least until it’s time to _stop_ being nice. And I think they also help me figure out when it’s _actually_ time and not when I’m just mad. Does that make sense?”

“Sure,” Ahsoka said.

“But…” She hesitated, fiddling with the end of the rope. “But...does _that_ make me a bad person?” she asked, very quietly.

“That sometimes, you need an example?” Ahsoka asked. “To figure out the right thing to do?”

She nodded. “‘Cause…’cause you and Daddy and _‘specially_ Uncle Obi-Wan always seem to just _know,_ and…I don’t.”

“No,” she said. “No, sweetheart, it doesn’t. And--we don’t, you know. We argue about the right thing to do all the time.”

“Really?” Leia asked.

“Really,” Ahsoka assured her. “I promise. Look, _everyone_ needs help and advice sometimes. And it’s _definitely_ okay to ask when you’re confused about what to do, or you think you’re a little too close to a problem to make the right choice. I know I always do, and Uncle Obi-Wan, too.”

“And Daddy?”

“Your dad...well, he still has trouble with that sometimes,” Ahsoka said. “But he’s gotten a _lot_ better about asking for help since you were born.”

“Okay,” Leia said, relaxing a little, her relief bleeding out into the Force. She dropped her half-finished ladder rung and darted over to give Ahsoka a quick, but fervent hug. _“Thank_ you, Aunt ‘Soka.”

“Of course,” Ahsoka said, hugging her back. “Any time.”

She held her for a minute longer, then let go.

“Better?”

Leia nodded. _“Lots.”_

“Good,” she said, and smiled. “Come on, let’s try and get this ladder finished before we run out of daylight, okay? Remember to watch for splinters.”

“Yeah,” Leia said, and dove back into her work with determined enthusiasm.  “...hey, is this like that one cave where Daddy and Uncle Obi-Wan almost got eaten by a gundark except you saved them?”

Ahsoka bit back a grin. “Not really. Why, are you worried about gundarks? Because I’m pretty sure they’re not native to this planet.”

“No,” she said. “I’m not worried.”

“...you wanna hear that story again, don’t you.” She should’ve guessed right from the start. It _was_ one of Leia’s favorites.

She turned big, beseeching brown eyes on her, just barely visible in the dim light from the ceiling and Ahsoka’s saber. _Not_ an easy face to resist. “Please?”

Ahsoka did laugh at that. It would make the time go faster, keep Leia from getting bored or anxious while they were stuck down here.

Besides, if she were completely honest with herself, it was one of _her_ favorites, too.

“All right," she said, and settled into a more comfortable position with the half-connected ladder rungs in her lap. "So, it all started a couple months after I first met your dad…”


	53. Part 5, Chapter 8

Bail had, back during the War, served on several key finance committees in the Senate; and so he knew what kind of logistical nightmare it could be to keep an army supplied and functioning. Particularly when (or, at least, so they had thought at the time) no one had had advance warning or time to prepare.

Their rebellion, of course, was still probably at least a few years off from open war, at least on that scale; far enough, even, that a determinedly optimistic part of Bail could still  _ almost _ credibly whisper ‘maybe we can fix this some other way, maybe it won’t come to that after all.’ But with the rapid expansion of Obi-Wan and Anakin’s contacts in the last year, Bail thought it was time to start preparing for that eventuality. No matter how much he wanted to believe that little voice in his head.

Especially since, in all likelihood, the logistical problems facing them would be  _ far  _ more difficult than any during the War had been. Even leaving aside the need to conceal their activities and cover their tracks, at least for a few years more, they didn’t have much of an infrastructure to start from. Even without an army before the clones had appeared, they’d had the Judicial department and a few intrasystem militias to build off of, and the resources and trade routes to adapt with reasonable speed when their backs were against the wall.

Truth be told, he’d actually been thinking about this particular problem for a while now, ever since he’d had to improvise a secure supply line when General Skywalker had been so badly hurt after killing Specter. Because information, and even the physical letters Padme and General Skywalker exchanged, had been one thing, and they’d had  _ communication _ networks set up from the very beginning. But a much larger, easier to track physical object had taken some doing. If they’d had the necessary supply routes and everything set up before then, it wouldn’t have been quite so difficult. And when they were at a point where they would need to move significant volume--let alone  _ weapons _ \--they would need even more.

But, since then, solving those problems had kept getting pushed aside for more immediate priorities. Keeping up appearances on Imperial Center and elsewhere, managing actual crises and mercy missions as they came up, stealing time to visit his wife and daughter at home, evaluating his fellow Senators as potential allies or threats…

That last could be a particularly complicated one. There had been one incident, not too long ago, where Bail had misjudged the...sense of debt, for lack of a better term, that one of his colleagues had felt to Palpatine’s government. It was all due to a situation that Palpatine himself, of course, had engineered, but attempting to convince the Senator in question of that would have been difficult and time-consuming, and posed an unacceptable risk. If Mon and Padme hadn’t convinced him to take a step back and reconsider, things could have gone very wrong  _ very _ quickly.

They had been, though. Disaster had been averted. But Bail had, as a precaution, pulled back a little from evaluating contacts as a result, freeing his attention for other things.

But between that near miss, and the fact that that Darth Infernalis was now active-- _ openly  _ active, going on missions and committing atrocities the way Specter had; not just a name whispered between children--Bail was convinced that it couldn’t be put off any longer. Palpatine hadn’t missed a beat in replacing his dead apprentice, after all, which was symptomatic of the larger issue of the overall disparity between the Empire and the nascent rebellion: the Emperor had the resources, at this point, to simply starve them out if he so chose.

Of course, this would not be a war won by resources alone--if Bail believed that, he might as well give up now; there was no way their movement could ever match the Empire for manpower and weaponry, no matter how carefully, or how far in advance, they planned. Not in his lifetime. Likely not even in his daughter’s, or  _ her _ children’s.

Still, the more they could shrink that gap, the likelier their success would become. If-- _ when _ \--their conflict moved out into the open, they would need every advantage they could have. At the very least, it would go a long way towards limiting their losses, which was--not  _ least _ at all. Too many people had died as a result of Sheev Palpatine’s evil and ambition already.

So, under cover of discussing an education bill that had been stalled for over a year, he had set up a meeting to start getting things in motion. They might even actually discuss the bill, at least for part of the evening, depending on how long their actual business took. It wasn’t likely to unstall, but there was always a chance

And every step forward, even on something seemingly unrelated to their movement,  _ meant _ something. So Bail never gave up trying.

Mon arrived exactly on time, as she almost always did. He hadn’t explained exactly what the meeting was about, for obvious reasons, but she didn’t ask. They’d been doing this long enough; she knew he would brief her as soon as they were clear.

“Are we waiting for Padme?” she asked, once they’d gotten settled in his study and Captain Antilles had confirmed the countersurveillance measures were up and running.

He shook his head. “She’s helping Pooja get situated.” Padme’s niece had joined her office as an intern at the start of the new session, after the Founding Week holiday, and Padme had promised her sister that Pooja would be kept far away from any Rebel activity.

Which Bail completely understood—Pooja was only a few years older than Winter, after all, and the idea of his daughter getting involved in all of this  _ horrified  _ him. And Breha felt the same. Padme’s sister, who wasn’t even directly involved herself, probably felt even  _ more _ strongly on the subject.

“She may join us later,” he added, “but she said to go ahead without her. If she can’t make it, I’ll update her tomorrow, after the nature preservation committee session.”

“Right,” Mon said, and accepted a cup of tea. “What’s going on? Did something happen, with your…friends?”

“Not exactly,” he said. “More of the same, really.”

“All right,” she said. “Not exactly?”

He nodded. “Just...general trends, that got me thinking. I believe that we need to start putting some serious thought into dependable funding, among other things.”

“Things are moving that quickly?” she said.

“For a given value of quickly,” he conceded. “But I think we’ll be at a point where we need a real base of operations sometime in the next five to ten years. Assuming our…field network keeps developing the way it has been.”

That was the primary issue, really; and potentially the hardest to solve with any kind of speed or security. But they would need something truly centralized in order to actually integrate the disparate cells and resistance movements across the galaxy. Depending on Obi-Wan and the others running from cell to cell, and recruiting couriers like the Nautolan Moonshot to maintain the communication links when the Jedi couldn’t, was a temporary solution at best.

“I see,” she said, and set her cup down. “I don’t suppose they’ve stumbled across any reasonable locations?”

“One or two,” he said. “But I don’t think they’ve been looking in particular. I haven’t discussed this with them yet. I wanted things set on our end first.”

“Of course,” she said, and frowned, considering. “I can start looking into base sites--there are a few places I can think of already, actually, that have some sort of facilities we can adapt, which makes things easier. But once we  _ have _ a base, and soldiers to populate it…”

He nodded. “We’ll need to supply it.”

“I think you’re better established to start working on that,” she said, after a moment of quiet thought. “Most of the communication already goes through you anyway, and we can build on that, I think.”

“Probably,” he said. “At least for getting the supplies to the base. But in terms of  _ acquiring  _ them…” In the scale they were starting to build to, there was simply no way they could get what they needed legally.

“I’d prefer to go to the black market rather than steal things ourselves,” she said, immediately. “On that issue, obviously, we’ll want Padme to weigh in--I think the risk of exposure is about the same either way, but the potential loss of personnel bothers me.”

She had a point there, but he wasn’t entirely sure he agreed about the risk of exposure being equal. That, however, was a debate they could have another time. Particularly since, as Mon said, they would need Padme’s input to make a final call.

“And that brings us to the question of funding. Even if we  _ could _ manage something on the scale I’m picturing out of our personal discretionary funds, I’m concerned about the ethical implications.” The  _ last _ thing he wanted was to set their party up as an oligarchy, with the implication that newcomers had to either buy or be born into positions of leadership. Not that he or Padme or Mon ever  _ would, _ of course, but…

_ Appearances  _ in politics meant a great deal. And they could not afford the appearance of overthrowing a dictatorship only to replace it with their own, however benevolent. Even if they made changes to the structure of the Republic, when they restored it, it couldn’t be  _ that. _

Something else they needed to start discussing, perhaps. If they found the time. There was no way the transition back to democracy would be entirely smooth, no matter how quickly or cleanly the open conflict phase of the restoration of the Republic went. But the more they could do to mitigate that, the better it would be.

Mon nodded, and started to answer, but Captain Antilles tapped on the door.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he said. “Senator Amidala is on her way up.”

“Of course,” Bail said. “Thank you.” Which was good timing, as well--Padme was still more familiar with the Banking Clan’s convoluted regulations than either he or Mon was. With her input, they would be better able to make an informed decision about how to pull all of this off.

Padme was only a moment behind the Captain’s warning. “Good evening. I’m so sorry I’m late,” she said.

He shook his head, and passed Padme a cup of tea. “Pooja’s doing all right?” Bail asked.

“Yes,” Padme said, and smiled. “Luke’s very excited to have her here. He’s planning to show her all over the Senate district tomorrow. Dorme’s going to take them.”

And would probably be a better guide than a small child. But it wasn’t surprising--Bail knew that Luke got along reasonable well with his cousins, age difference aside, and he’d had a lot of fun showing Winter around, too, when she’d visited. “I’m glad to hear it,” he said.

Padme nodded. “So, what have I missed?”

Mon filled her in, as succinctly as she could.

“Huh,” Padme said. “So, to sum up, we have three problems--finding and concealing a long-term base that can support a small army, finding and securing a dependable supply chain, and finding a way to safely fund all of this. Right?”

“More or less,” Bail said. “I can probably expand our communications network, which is a start, but moving any high volume material--” He shook his head.

“I think our allies have some resources in the Outer Rim,” Padme said.

“Maybe,” Mon said. “But connecting our suppliers to theirs, not to mention verifying and securing routes, will still be a problem.”

“Yeah,” Padme said. “I can check some of my contacts, and have my handmaidens do the same. I’m not sure where to start looking for a base, though.”

“What about funds?” Bail asked.

She considered, tapping the rim of her teacup. “Sourcing credits is going to be the hard part, I think. Concealing them--I know how to do that.” Her mouth twisted a little, at unpleasant memories Bail knew better than to ask about. “It’s the same problem as political recruitment, really. We all know  _ how _ to raise money, it’s finding sources that won’t betray us.”

Which would be both easier and more difficult than cultivating political assets within the Senate, since quite a few of them would be technically outside the political structures they’d spent the bulk of their professional lives learning to navigate.

“Why don’t you go ahead and set up the accounts?” Mon said. “And all of us can start sounding out allies of this type, as well.”

“All right,” Padme said.

“If you feel like you should wait, while your niece is here,” Bail started.

But she shook her head. “No, not for the accounting part,” she said. “Maybe for running down possible supply chains, but if I leave that to Sabe and the others for now, it should be fine.”

“All right,” he said. “Let us know if that changes.”

“Of course,” she said.

“Now,” Mon said. “Can you talk us through at least the bare bones of what you’ll be doing? The more we know now, the easier it will be to coordinate once we have a source or two to tap.”

“Sure,” she said, and pulled out her datapad.

And after that, if they had time, they would either switch gears to talking about the education bill--in case anyone asked them about the progress they’d made--or start putting together lists of potential locations or things they’d need.

The point was, they were making progress, and Bail felt a weight lift off his shoulders. They had all learned the hard way, through the War and its aftermath, that being caught off guard was costly, in terms of lives and resources and all those intangible things that made them who and what they were. But this time--they would be  _ prepared _ this time, if--when--the worst happened. They would be not only willing, but  _ ready _ to meet it.

With that, and a little bit of luck, maybe this war, when it finally broke out in earnest, wouldn’t have to last three long and bloody years.

Bail sincerely hoped it would be so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, guys! So sorry about the long unplanned hiatus. Life got a little bit in the way, and this chapter ended up being hard for me to put together, due at least in part to writing about people much smarter than me talking about areas in which I have no expertise...
> 
> Anyway! The plan at this point is to actually put two more chapters out before the end of the calendar year, which should bring this arc to a close, and hopefully I'll be back to regular weekly updates starting with Part Six in January.
> 
> Thank you so much for your patience, and for sticking around this long <3 ~shadowsong


	54. Part 5, Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a note, towards the end of this chapter someone is briefly buried under a pile of rubble. They don't freak out about it and they get out very quickly, but if that's something that gets to you, I just wanted to give you a head's up <3

Anakin secured the next set of explosives, then dropped back down to the factory floor; he studied the rest of the workroom, considering. A few more charges, and he’d be able to bring the ceiling crashing down. Between that and the other sabotage he’d done over the past few hours, after the workers had cleared out for carefully scheduled routine maintenance, he’d put this place out of business for at least six months.

Definitely a good thing, on all counts.

He had maybe two hours and a half hours before the early shift showed up, just before dawn. But, assuming nothing went spectacularly wrong, that wouldn’t be a problem; he’d be out of here in less than half that time. That would leave enough of a margin of error that he was almost certain to get clear before he actually hit the detonator--very important, since the factory’s guards would secure the perimeter _fast--_ while still leaving enough room on the other side to minimize collateral.

It was...well, it was just like any number of missions he’d gone on in the last several years. Better than some, even. This factory built weapons, specifically turret cannons for Star Destroyers and military bases on the ground, which meant it was a relatively clear-cut target. Almost as simple as they came, really.

But ever since he’d landed two days ago for recon, something had been bothering him about the whole thing; he just wasn’t quite sure _what_ yet.

Nothing unusual had happened; not during his recon, or when he’d sliced into the factory’s computer to tweak the maintenance schedule and expand his window, or on his approach past the stormtroopers who had remained on guard, or with his sabotage thus far.

And yet--well, and yet.

He sighed, picked another promising support beam, and vaulted up to it to plant the next set of charges.

It probably wouldn’t have been quite as bad if he’d had someone to talk to. But Obi-Wan was on his own mission, helping out one of the cells Moonshot had linked them to, and he’d needed Rex as backup more than Anakin did this week. And Ahsoka was working with Leia again, having sworn up and down that there would be no more treetop adventures over unstable ground.

 _That_ was probably a big part of his uneasiness, come to think of it; he was _always_ tense when Leia was on one of her off-planet trips, especially without him, and _especially_ when the last one had come so close to putting her in real danger.

Still, it wasn’t all _that_ unusual, for him to fly solo like this. And, sure, the two days of solitary recon had had him clawing at the walls a little bit--it always did; recon was one of his least favorite assignments and always had been--but not enough to make him _this_ antsy. Plus, he had Artoo with him, just a quick call away on the _Waterfall,_ ready in case he needed an extraction in a hurry. So he wasn’t _completely_ alone.

Maybe it was because their tip about this place hadn’t come from one of their usual contacts. But the source was a friend of a friend of his old friend Kitster, and he _knew_ Kitster wouldn’t be party to setting him up.

Not _intentionally,_ anyway.

 _Or maybe I’m just being paranoid,_ he thought, double checking the link between the charge and the remote detonator. _It wouldn’t be the first time._

It was probably all of it together, really--the relative isolation, the untested intel source, Leia on a trip--which touched at something vaguely familiar in the back of his mind, but he couldn’t quite--

There was a sudden, perceptible change in the air.

Anakin was no longer alone in here.

He shifted position so he would be a little less visible from the ground; the metal support beam creaked faintly as his right hand gripped it a little too hard.

And then he went still, half-holding his breath, stretching all senses out towards the workroom’s only entrance; waiting for the threat to reveal itself.

With any luck, it was just local security--he’d done his best to cover his tracks and give himself a clean window, but that was never a guarantee. And if that were the case, it was better to try and avoid notice. Mind trick them so they wouldn’t see the bombs, send them on their way, and finish up as quickly as he could.

Of course, when the hell had he ever been that lucky?

Anakin sensed him a moment before he appeared in the doorway; Mirialan, tall for his species, built like a tank.

That, coupled with the cold, hungry tendril winding its way through the Force, could only mean one thing.

_Oh, karking hell._

He thought back, trying to remember if there was anything about this planet or this factory that the Chancellor would consider worth sending his apprentice to deal with. Nothing came to mind, which meant either he’d missed something, or Kitster’s contact had screwed them both.

Except--

Darth Infernalis had paused in the doorway, head tilted. He went for his lightsaber, but slowly; wary.

 _...if this_ is _an ambush, it’s as much a surprise to him as it is to me._

Well, _that_ changed everything.

Because, yeah, going up against a Sith Lord by himself had _never_ ended well, but Anakin had every advantage in the moment--he was stronger, more experienced, and he’d spent the last two and a half days learning the lay of the land. Plus, if he killed Infernalis here, that would set the Chancellor back at _least_ a year or two, while he maneuvered his next apprentice into place.

Really, Anakin would be stupid _not_ to engage.

The next instant, he vaulted down from the ceiling, lightsaber springing to his hand. He activated it a split second before impact, aiming a swift downward stroke at the center of Infernalis’ skull.

Infernalis sidestepped, activating his own ‘saber and throwing it up to deflect Anakin’s.

Just like Obi-Wan had guessed weeks ago, the Sith Lord’s blade was longer than usual by several centimeters. Fine; Anakin knew exactly how to handle that-- _crowd_ him. Stay inside his reach, so he couldn’t use it properly.

So, he shifted his grip; drawing on some of Ahsoka’s technique--a reverse grip was particularly useful in close quarters--and pressed his advantage.

Infernalis was _not_ comfortable on the defensive, and it showed. He bared his teeth, but he gave ground, step after step after step, barely keeping up with Anakin’s furious onslaught, trying and failing twice to turn the tables on him.

After the second attempt, Anakin scored a hit; cutting deep into Infernalis’ left shoulder. The angle was off; he didn’t actually sever the arm.

_Damn it._

Infernalis yelped, then lashed out, flinging a bolt of lightning in Anakin’s direction.

It went wide, but it was enough to drive him back a few steps.

Infernalis _snarled_ and leaped at him, enraged by pain and fueled by adrenaline.

Anakin held his ground--the Sith Lord wouldn’t be able to sustain his assault for more than a few seconds, and as soon as it let up, he could--

He felt a faint flicker of motion at his wrist, and then Infernalis abruptly disengaged, backflipping to put some distance between them and landing at the door.

Anakin launched after him--realized, a split second too late, _exactly_ what that flicker was--

Infernalis smirked at him. “See you soon, Skywalker,” he said, and activated the stolen detonator.

He threw up a shield as fast as he could to protect himself from the worst of the explosion, and then the world disappeared in a cascade of molten steel.

 

* * *

 

Infernalis trudged wearily onto his ship, wounded arm throbbing uselessly at his side.

 _That,_ he thought grimly, _could only have gone worse if Skywalker had actually_ killed _me._

It was supposed to be a simple assignment--the factory manager was skimming; writing off perfectly functional parts as defective and selling them at a deliriously high markup on the black market. The kind of operation Infernalis would have appreciated, even participated in, a few years ago.

Of course, he had different priorities now.

Today’s task was: show some finesse, but make an _example_ of the thieving manager.

 _That,_ of course, had gone completely out the window as soon as he’d arrived and found Skywalker already there. Instead of the nice, clear-cut murder he’d been sent to commit, Infernalis had been forced into a confrontation that he was in _no_ way ready for.

Oh, sure, he was _delighted_ by the idea of fighting and killing Skywalker; of being the one to finally vanquish the Jedi who had killed two of his three predecessors-- _someday._ But Infernalis was realistic about his own capabilities, and the simple fact was a neophyte Sith Lord with barely two years of training had no chance against a Jedi Knight with Skywalker’s power and experience.

The only thing that had saved him had been Skywalker’s bombs. He’d spotted them as soon as he’d entered the factory, of course. Infernalis had served a decade of hard labor in a cortosis mine, and had been been sent there following his conviction for...call it something not too far off from Skywalker’s apparent goal. _(His_ target, though, had been _much_ more entertaining than an empty factory.)

The point was, he _knew_ explosives.

With that in mind, all he’d had to do, really, was stick close to the exit and get his hands on Skywalker’s remote. And even _that_ had pushed his skills to the very limit. If he’d been _any_ slower to grab and activate the detonator...

Well,  he’d managed. But it had only been a delaying action, in the end. He had absolutely no doubt that Skywalker had survived the explosion. The Jedi, much like Infernalis’ semi-legendary cyborg predecessor, seemed to be more or less unkillable. Infernalis wouldn’t credit reports of Skywalker’s death unless he’d been dismembered and set on fire--and even _then,_ he’d have his doubts. Merely dropping a building on him certainly wouldn’t be enough.

Still, despite all of that, Infernalis _had_ managed to get out of the factory with his head on his shoulders, which was no small victory.

Of course, _now_ he had to figure out how to explain his catastrophic failure to his Master. Because not only had he failed to complete his actual mission, he’d allowed a significant threat to the Empire to escape _and_ destroyed a reasonably productive weapons factory.

To say Sidious would be displeased was one _hell_ of an understatement.

No help for it now. He’d just have to deal with whatever punishment was thrown at him when it came.

Infernalis growled a little, and plugged in the coordinates for Imperial Center. He closed his eyes and sank into a light meditation, doing everything he could to prepare himself for his arrival.

He might not be on Skywalker’s level--not yet, anyway--but he _was_ a survivor, after all. He’d figure it out. Somehow.

 

* * *

 

Anakin came to in darkness, with his commlink shrieking anxiously in his ear.

“Shut up,” he mumbled.

It didn’t listen.

He groaned, and groped for it; finding it after a few seconds, he accepted the call without looking to see who it was.

/Where are you?/ Artoo asked. /I saw the explosion and you should be here by now. This signal is still coming from inside the factory. Why is your signal still coming from inside the factory? Are you damaged? Do I need to shoot people for you again?/

“Hey--uh--slow down, one question at a time,” he said. He opened his eyes cautiously, to find--okay, less darkness than he thought. He could see substantial patches of moonlight. He wasn’t buried _too_ deep.

_Oh, good. Small favors._

/Good, you’re alive,/ Artoo said. /You’d better hurry, the stormtroopers are already sealing a perimeter./

“Of course they are,” he said. “Hang on.” He set the commlink aside and closed his eyes, searching for the edges of the rubble and the safest way to lift it off of himself.

 _Okay, I think--there._ He gripped it tight and pushed, feeling it shift at his command, just enough for him to wriggle out from underneath.

(Nothing like, he remembered with a twinge of grief that he tried to ignore, when he and Master Windu had been buried under half a cruiser a lifetime ago.)

He shook off the memory; Artoo was right, he needed to get out of here before Imperial security showed up.

“All right,” he said, picking up his commlink again and dragging himself upright. “I’m on my way. Get the ship running, we’re probably gonna have to take off as soon as I’m there.”

/Should I meet you halfway?/ Artoo asked. /And you didn’t answer my question./

“I’m fine,” Anakin said.

Artoo beeped something disbelieving that Anakin would never, in a million years, allow him to say in front of his daughter.

“I’m _fine,”_ he insisted. _I think. Probably._ He took a careful, experimental step, and didn’t come crashing down. _Eh, I can walk, that’s good enough for now._ “And--no, hold tight ‘til I get there. We don’t wanna draw the troopers’ attention until we absolutely have to. Have Obi-Wan and Rex checked in with you yet?”

/No, but I expect them to call soon. Should I patch them through if they do?/

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, do that. Don’t bother calling them yourself, but, you know.”

/Yes, I know,/ Artoo said. /Keep your comm on so I can find you if you collapse./

“Your faith in me is touching,” Anakin said dryly. “I told you, I’m fine. I still have the same number of limbs I did this morning and everything.”

Artoo was silent for a second. /That is disconcertingly specific,/ he said.

Anakin winced a little. “Forget it. Just, uh, just patch Obi-Wan through if he calls.” He reached out and his lightsaber jumped out of the rubble to join him. “I’m headed your way.”

/I’ll be here,/ Artoo promised.

Anakin slipped his commlink into his pocket, then closed his eyes. He picked the direction that felt safest, then started making his way across the rubble and out of what was left of the factory complex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo I should probably stop promising extra updates, because without fail, as soon as I do, work/RL gets super busy. ^^;; Anyway, sorry that this is delayed, but I should be on time next week, at least?
> 
> Thanks for sticking around! <3
> 
> ~shadowsong


	55. Part 5, Chapter 10

Aunt Dorme had picked Luke up from the Palace after spending another afternoon with Lani, right when the sun was going down and flashing through all the buildings.

It had been a good day--they’d spent most of it out on her balcony, and he’d been trying  _ very  _ hard not to think about how easy it would be for the two of them to sneak out that way, if they could just distract her guards a little bit. It didn’t look like a very hard climb or anything--but then they’d both be in trouble.

_ Also, she’s really little, I don’t want her to fall and get hurt again, like when she hurt herself a couple months ago, _ he reminded himself.

Still, once he’d sort of seen a way to do it, he really just wanted to get her away from the red guards and the Palace with its unhappy walls and how it all made her seem so small and lonely, so he hadn’t exactly managed to talk himself out of  _ thinking _ about how they could do it.

Even if they probably never would.

He couldn’t say any of that to Aunt Dorme, of course. He just watched the sun as they drove back to Mamma’s office--not the apartment, ‘cause Mamma had promised him that she would wrap things up early and they were going out for ice cream.

“Because we can,” Mamma had said that morning. “Besides, who  _ doesn’t  _ love ice cream?”

Luke was  _ not _ about to argue with that. Especially since--well, he wasn’t  _ sure, _ but he  _ thought _ that Pooja had something she was supposed to do tonight, which meant  _ maybe _ Mamma had time just for him. ‘Cause normally, every couple of weeks, Mamma made sure they had at least one whole morning, or afternoon, or evening like tonight, where it was the two of them spending time together by themselves. Except they hadn’t really had a chance since Pooja had gotten here, ‘cause she was staying with them, and he loved his cousin and having her here was  _ great  _ but he missed having special time with just him and Mamma a little bit.

So he was hoping, that was all.

Mamma’s office, when they got there, was really busy, just like it always was. She was at her desk, bent over a datapad with Threepio hovering next to her, Aunt Sabe was on watch at the door, Pooja was--Luke wasn’t exactly sure  _ what _ Pooja was doing, really, except that it involved scrolling through a really,  _ really _ long list.

“And this last one needs to be in--uh, one second, Pooja?”

“Western Mountain Ryl, Aunt Padme.”

“Western Mountain Ryl, Threepio,” Mamma finished. “Thank you.”

“Yes, of course, my lady,” he said. “Shall I--”

“Just a straight translation this time,” she said. “Senator Taa and I already went through the phrasing at length.”

From the way she said it, Luke figured Mamma had had at  _ least _ four or five meetings with the other Senator, who he sort of got the feeling she didn’t like very much.

“Very well, my lady,” Threepio said. “I shall have it for you to seal and send in the next two hours.”

“Tomorrow morning is fine, Threepio,” she said, with a brief smile, then caught sight of Luke and Dorme at the door and her smile got bigger and warmer. “Just another minute, sweetheart, okay?”

“Okay,” he said, and found his usual seat in a corner with his favorite toy starfighter right where he’d left it.

Mamma went back into her desk, muttering something to herself, then finally signed off of her datapad. “All right, everything else can wait ‘til tomorrow--Pooja, you’re set for the junior legislator’s reception tonight?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I just need to go home and change.”

“Motee?”

“Ready,” she said.

“All right, Pooja, you know the rules,” Mamma said.

“Back by eleven, and don’t do anything that would make Mom mad at either of us,” Pooja said, and grinned. “See you tomorrow, Aunt Padme.”

“See you tomorrow,” she said, then shooed her and Aunt Motee out the door. “All right, Lulu. Sorry about that, I was running a little late.”

“S’okay,” he said, and jumped down off his chair to give her a hug, still holding onto his starfighter. “Good day, though?”

“Yep,” she said, hugging him close. “Even better now.”

“Because ice cream?”

“Because ice cream,” she agreed, then took his hand and led him out the door and onto the lift down to the garage, leaving Aunt Elle to lock up, while Aunt Dorme and Aunt Sabe fell in behind them. “What about you? Did you have fun with the princess?”

“Uh-huh,” he said. “She’s got some really cool vines growing on her balcony. With little blue flowers except they’re just buds right now.”

“That does sound very nice,” Mamma said. “Hopefully next time, they’ll be blooming. I think she’ll like that, and I know you will.”

He nodded. “Yeah! Can I put flowers like that by my window, maybe? Not the same ones, ‘cause I dunno exactly which ones she has, but pretty vines with flowers in them?”

“That sounds wonderful,” Mamma said. The lift chimed softly, letting them out where Captain Typho was waiting with Mamma’s speeder. “After ice cream, we can maybe look at some pictures and you can decide exactly what you want. And, since Pooja’s out tonight, I thought we could watch a movie or something, how does that sound?”

Luke  _ beamed  _ up at her, because that meant that she’d managed to clear all night,  _ just _ like he’d hoped.

“That sounds  _ awesome,” _ he said, climbing into the car next to her and curling close. “Only you should pick the movie. ‘Cause I picked last time.”

“Okay,” she said, double-checking his seatbelt for him. “But first, ice cream. Very important.”

“The  _ most _ important,” he agreed solemnly.

She laughed and ruffled his hair, and the speeder started moving underneath them, on what had pretty quickly turned into the best day  _ ever. _

 

* * *

 

Leia and Aunt ‘Soka had gotten in really,  _ really _ late last night; late enough that Aunt Beru had been a little bit mad at them, or at least at Aunt ‘Soka. Leia hadn’t really paid all that much attention, though; she’d been sort of half asleep the whole time and snuck off to her room as soon as no one was actually paying attention to her anymore.

The trip had been really cool, at least--more tracking and everything like last time, only on a big open plain with  _ so much grass. _ No trees to climb, but also less likely for them to fall through the ground and land in a cave. It was also, Aunt ‘Soka had told her, a good place to learn how to be sneaky and not get caught somewhere it was hard to find places to hide.

Which she sort of already knew, from playing hide and seek in the desert with her friends, but the way she and Aunt ‘Soka did it was a  _ lot  _ smarter. And she’d done pretty good at the practice games, too. Or  _ she  _ thought she had, anyway, and Aunt ‘Soka would’ve told her if she hadn’t.

So, she’d come home pretty pleased with herself, even if she was really tired and Aunt Beru wasn’t very happy. And they’d let her sleep in this morning, too, judging by how hot her room was when she finally woke up.

Plus--

She sat up and tilted her head, concentrating.

Daddy had gotten home sometime after she and Aunt ‘Soka had, which was even  _ better. _

She grinned and wriggled down onto the floor and made her way over to the kitchen, where the two of them were talking and having caf together.

Daddy broke off mid-sentence when she came in--not secrets or anything, something about this season’s racing scores--and smiled.

“Morning, princess,” he said, kissing the top of her head when she got close enough. “Sleep well?”

“Uh-huh,” she said, climbing into the chair next to him. “What about you?” Up close, he looked tired, and she could see bruises peeking out from under his cloak, which looked a little bit burned.

“Well, I just got here, but I slept a little on the way,” he said, raising an eyebrow across the table at Aunt ‘Soka, who just shook her head and poured Leia a glass of milk.

“That’s good,” she said, picking up the glass and leaning into him a little. It was something, anyway. Aunt Beru could yell at him later if he needed it. So could she.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and she could feel him relaxing--both outside and in her mind. “Missed you lots.”

“Missed you, too,” she said. “How long are you here for?” She  _ hoped _ he’d get to stay for a bit longer this time--his last  _ four _ visits had been really short, only a day or two each.

“A while,” he said, smiling down at her. “Maybe even a whole week, I’m not sure yet. But Uncle Owen asked me to look at a few things next time I was here, and Uncle Obi-Wan can spare me for a bit, so--”

Aunt ‘Soka rolled her eyes and muttered something Leia couldn’t really hear into her caf.

“I  _ heard _ that,” Daddy said.

“I didn’t say anything!” she said, innocently.

“Not out  _ loud, _ maybe,” he said. “But you were definitely  _ thinking _ it, Snips.”

“Oh, that doesn’t count,” she said, grinning. “Come on, Leia, back me up.”

“Well, you  _ did _ sort of roll your eyes,” she said. “But…” She tilted her head. That  _ was _ mostly what Aunt ‘Soka did when Daddy was being dumb. And even if she didn’t know  _ for sure… _ “I dunno, maybe Daddy deserved it.”

That made Aunt ‘Soka burst out laughing, which made Daddy throw a napkin at her, which she caught.

“Nice try,” she said. “Your daughter is wise beyond her years.”

He sighed, and rolled his eyes theatrically up at the ceiling. “Well, I’m not gonna argue with  _ both _ of you,” he said.

“What are we even arguing about?” Leia asked.

“Long, boring story,” Daddy said easily, ruffling her hair. Which really meant something he didn’t want to tell her about. “The point is, I know when it’s time to retreat with grace--”

“Since  _ when?” _

“And,” he went on, completely ignoring Aunt ‘Soka and letting go of Leia to push himself up from the table, “I’ve got work to do, anyway. I’ll be out in the garage if you need me.”

Leia frowned a little, watching him straighten a little more carefully than she liked. It  _ looked _ like he was just tired and bruised, but…

“Need a hand?” Aunt ‘Soka asked.

“Sure, if you want,” he said.

“Can I help?” Leia asked.

He considered for a minute, then nodded. “After you finish all your regular chores. And--do you have homework?”

She shook her head. “Regular lessons don’t start ‘til next week.”

“I knew that,” he said. “All right, you can join us once you’re done with everything else.”

“Okay,” she said, and hopped down off her chair to hug him, carefully.

“See you later, princess,” he said, hugging back. “And depending on how much I get done today, we can maybe go out to the canyon tomorrow and you can show me some of what you and Aunt Ahsoka were working on. Sound good?”

“Sounds good,” she said; and then he let go, ruffled her hair one more time, and headed off toward the garage.

Aunt ‘Soka put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed briefly. “He’s okay,” she assured her. “Or he will be in a day or two. Just a little bit banged up.”

“Okay,” Leia said, relieved. She’d  _ thought _ so, but it was nice to hear for sure. Because he’d come home bruised and stiff and achy like this before, but this was--it hadn’t been this  _ obvious _ since her sixth birthday. And even if it wasn’t  _ nearly _ that bad… “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” she said. “See you in a couple hours, kiddo, all right?”

“Yep,” Leia said. She’d  _ probably _ finish up faster than that, but she knew if she actually  _ said _ it, Aunt ‘Soka would just give her that Look--the one she’d obviously learned from Uncle Obi-Wan--and remind her not to rush things when she didn’t have to.

Aunt ‘Soka flashed her a pointy little grin, then followed Daddy off to the garage, leaving Leia to find Aunt Beru and figure out what was on her list of things to do today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of domestic fluff on both sides to close out Part 5. Because they all deserve it.
> 
> Part 6, _Reunion,_ will start with the next update!
> 
> :)
> 
> ~shadowsong


	56. Part 6: Reunion, Chapter 1

It had been ten years since they had all gone their separate ways from Polis Massa.

Ten years of building careful alliances; of sabotage; of near-silence punctuated by whispered voices in the dark. Ten years of making slow and not always constant progress, but becoming something--something greater than five people who had made a pact, had agreed that they wouldn’t give up. That they would keep fighting, for as long as they still could.

Ten years had made them a movement.

They were still several years off from actually accomplishing their goals. Bail knew that. Still, looking back on everything they  _ had _ accomplished in that time, it was hard not to be optimistic about the future.

Especially since, this week, after ten long years, Bail got to arrange for Padme to see her husband and daughter again at last.

Looking at the picture of his own family, sitting on the desk in his cabin on the  _ Tantive, _ Bail was honestly more pleased about that than anything else, at least in the moment. Despite the logistical nightmare involved. It had taken nearly eight months of planning to make this work, including providing Obi-Wan, General Skywalker, and Leia with false papers that were high enough quality to get them through spaceport security. And, of course, he and Breha had needed to come up with a reasonable story for Padme and Luke’s visit. Ordinarily, this wouldn’t be a problem, given their long history of cooperation, but they’d needed to find something that required minimal public appearances from Padme, because Bail and Breha had determined that they could only keep the Jedi safe and undiscovered for three days. The fewer interruptions their friends had, the better.

Still, three days, after ten years apart--brief as it was, it was a precious gift, and one he was very glad he was able to give.

Bail would arrive a little bit ahead of the others, of course, so he could oversee a few last-minute details and make sure that the route from the spaceport to where Obi-Wan and the others would rendezvous with Palace security was clear. Padme had actually left Coruscant shortly before him, but was stopping briefly on Naboo for some last-minute duty regarding the recent royal election. He expected her no more than half a day after he landed.

The Jedi--would arrive when they arrived. He had a vague estimate of one or two days after Padme at the latest, but Obi-Wan hadn’t given him a lot of detail, for security reasons.

Well, all of that would have to wait until he actually landed and saw first-hand what still needed to be done. But Bail had plenty to do to keep him occupied on the trip there; between official Senate business and reworking a few letters he and Mon had drafted to send to certain sympathetic planetary authorities they had been cautiously courting for the past year.

But then, about an hour out from Aldera City, Bail was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Come in,” he called, closing and sealing the confidential and dangerous files he’d been reviewing.

Not entirely necessary, as it turned out, when the door slid open to admit Captain Antilles. Very little of what Bail did was unknown to his security chief, and nothing he’d been immediately working on.

“Sir,” the Captain said.

“What is it?” Bail asked, catching the look on his face and setting the datapad aside.

“We may have a problem,” he said. “May I?”

He nodded. “Please.”

Captain Antilles bowed slightly and activated the large viewscreen on one wall, dimming the viewports and ceiling lights at the same time. He pulled up an official news broadcast, revealing a scene of smoke and sirens on Corsucant.

Bail flinched a little, if only internally; for a moment flung back to the day the Temple burned.

He closed his eyes, took a breath, and shook it off as quickly as he could. He opened them again and leaned forward, trying to get a feel for where the footage had been shot and what the hell was going on before he asked any questions.

The first was easy enough. The explosion was in the very heart of the Senate district; on the far right of the frame, he recognized the distinctive stonework of the building where Senator Bel Iblis and a few of his other colleagues had apartments.

As for the second, though, no such luck.

He gave up, and glanced over at Captain Antilles. “When did…?”

“Far as we can tell, not long after we jumped to lightspeed,” he said. “An hour later, maybe two.”

Bail nodded, and turned back to the screen, pushing up the volume just a little to try and capture more detail.

The newscaster--a Human woman, blonde and dark-eyed; Bail vaguely remembered meeting her once or twice, but couldn’t recall her name--appeared, partially blocking the view of the explosion.

“We can now confirm that the Emperor was not in the vehicle at the time of the explosion,” she said. “No information regarding Princess Lavinia’s status or whereabouts has yet been released. We do know that--I am being told now that Grand Moff Tarkin has taken control of the scene, and that all those present in connection with the attack have been arrested or killed by Imperial security forces. A search for co-conspirators who were not on site is ongoing. We will announce the names and affiliations of these terrorists as soon as they become av--”

Bail switched off the display. Silence rang in the cabin for a long moment.

“Do we know more than the news is saying?” he finally asked.

“Our network as a whole? Probably,” Captain Antilles said. “But I would advise against trying to touch base to find out until we land and get to a secure line.”

Of course--a flurry of messages back and forth was probably the  _ last _ thing they needed, especially with everything they had planned for this week. If the Captain had thought he could make inquiries safely, he already would have. And Bail trusted his judgment.

Unfortunately, that meant he didn’t have much to go on, and he had some very quick, very important decisions to make.

First and foremost among them, whether to try to call off the reunion.

The Jedi and Leia would have gone quiet while in transit, assuming they had already left Tatooine, which was likely. It was safer that way, for the same reasons Captain Antilles didn’t want to ask too many questions at the moment. Bail  _ did _ have a way to reach Obi-Wan, if it came to that. It would have been tempting fate to leave that out of their plans--even with all their careful preparations, there was a great deal of risk involved in this meeting. They needed a failsafe.

But Bail had to assume that his friends were already en route at this point, which complicated things. Especially since he didn’t know all the details of the arrangements they’d made, so he wasn’t entirely certain how much room they’d have to maneuver if he activated that failsafe. He was pretty sure, though, that the three of them were flying in on some sort of charter, probably as part of a much larger group where they would hopefully not draw as much attention.

Which, unfortunately, made any attempt to divert once they were in motion significantly harder. Bail would be very surprised if Obi-Wan didn’t have some kind of contingency plan, but it wouldn’t be clean or quick, and it might put the three of them in danger anyway. So he didn’t want to take such a drastic step unless he was  _ absolutely  _ sure it was necessary.

And, with the scant detail available, that certainty was elusive.

What he did know--whatever had just happened, whether it was something Palpatine had staged for cover or a genuine attempt by an unaffiliated resistance cell, Imperial security would be tightened  _ everywhere. _ And, yes, a great deal of work had been put in to ensure that the identities that the others were travelling under were absolutely airtight, but all it took was for one overzealous customs official to get suspicious and check something they  _ couldn’t _ fake. The likelihood of that had now significantly increased; probably not as much on Alderaan as it would have on Coruscant, but still enough to give him pause. Come to think of it, he was glad that Padme had had that other errand to run and left when she did, before the planet was sealed, or she might have been caught behind the shields and they’d have missed their chance at this anyway.

On the other hand...on the other hand, everything  _ was  _ already in motion. And getting word to Obi-Wan, while possible, still risked exposing the Jedi. Getting word to  _ Padme, _ in a way, was actually harder; since that would run the same risks of contacting any of their allies for more details about the explosion.

_ Not yet, _ he finally decided.  _ The risk of going on is either still about the same or less than the risk of making contact. Until it’s greater, it’s probably better to leave things as they are. Especially since we  _ know, _ more or less, what pitfalls we have to avoid right now, even with the--with the attack this afternoon. And what we might accidentally stir up by a sudden shift is a hell of a lot harder to predict. _

“We proceed as planned,” he said quietly. “Unless you have a good reason otherwise?”

Antilles shook his head. “Nothing you don’t already know, sir,” he said. “I’ll update you as I hear things, especially if that changes.”

“Please do,” Bail said. He had more or less expected that answer; if the Captain had had specific advice for him, he would have said so straight out.

Antilles saluted briefly, then turned to go.

“A moment, please,” Bail said, and he stopped.

He hesitated; glanced up at the dark screen for a moment, then at the holo of Winter and Breha, placed comfortably on the corner of his desk.

“I’m...asking for conjecture now,” he said. “Who do you think the target was?” Which may not have been as important as who was behind the attack in the grand scheme of things, but at the moment, to  _ him, _ it mattered a great deal.

“The princess,” Antilles said, immediately. “The broadcast didn’t show much of the scene, but what I could see looked more like the setup for an abduction than an assassination.”

And kidnapping the Emperor made no sense. Kidnapping his seven-year-old child, on the other hand…

Which just confirmed what he’d already suspected--if the attack  _ was _ genuine, it was an unaffiliated cell. An assassination attempt might not have been, but no one in their network who was volatile or desperate enough to attack a child had the access to pull this off.

“Of course,” he said. “Thank you, Captain. Keep me posted.”

“Sir,” he said, then bowed slightly and left the cabin, leaving Bail alone with his thoughts.

Which were now lightyears away from what he’d been working on when interrupted, of course, but...well, the letters could wait. He considered for a moment, then put the broadcast back on. Watching it wouldn’t change anything, of course, but at least if he was paying attention, it  _ felt _ like he was doing something. Besides, it was a better use of his time than worrying over whether he’d made the right call, in letting the reunion go forward.

Marginally.

The newscaster was onscreen again, saying precisely nothing useful--summarizing why Tarkin was on planet, and other bits of propaganda to fill airtime until she had actual authorized news to report.

He gave up after a few minutes, muting the screen but leaving it playing just in case there were any actual developments, and started working on a message for Mon, to send once they had landed safely. She would, of course, be in position to try and help the innocent bystanders who had gotten caught in Tarkin’s net after the explosion, but he wanted to coordinate and stay on top of things, so he could jump right into helping when he got back to the capital.

And one for Padme--as soon as she saw the broadcast, she would probably start asking herself some of the same questions he had already worked through. If she reached out and asked, he wanted to have the wording ironed out to confirm that things were still moving forward without exposing their plans.

Those tasks kept him occupied until the pilot announced they were coming in for a landing. Bail glanced up at the viewscreen one last time--Tarkin was making some kind of statement now; but there would be a recording he could review later--before switching it off and finally managing to bring his attention back to the actual task in front of him. He raised the cabin lights and the screens on the viewports at the same time, and the sight of Alderaan nestled there amongst the stars relaxed him, as it always did.

_ Tomorrow will bring whatever tomorrow brings, _ he told himself.  _ Today, though--today, I get to do something uncomplicated and good, because it will brighten the lives of people I care about. _

Focusing on that--and being so close to home, where he could see and hold his own wife and daughter again--was, if not  _ quite _ enough to bring him back to the level of optimism he’d had when he left Coruscant, at least setting him back in the right direction.


	57. Part 6, Chapter 2

Luke was not in his cabin.

To be fair, that wasn’t exactly uncommon. He liked to wander the ship when he got bored, especially while they were in hyperspace. Most of the time, this wasn’t really a problem, but right now, Padme needed to talk to him.

A conversation she really should have had days ago, if not weeks, but she’d been waiting for...something. Something she couldn’t really define. The right moment, maybe. But it had never really come, and now they were two hours out from Alderaan. There could be no more delays.

At least her ship wasn’t a very large one—even without getting any of her staff involved, it typically took a half hour, at the most, to track her son down when he wasn’t where she expected him to be.

It took even less time today. He was in the common area, perched on one of the couches and hugging his knees to his chest, watching a news alert from Imperial Center.

“The Princess was conscious and lucid when extracted from the speeder, and is now safely back at the Palace. We will continue updating you as further details on her condition are released.”

The reporter’s calm, near-monotone voice ran over Padme like a runaway shaak herd.

_ No. Oh, no, this can’t be happening. Especially not now. _

Part of her--the calculating Rebel leader part of her--was scrambling to think of all this might mean for their plans. For this week, for the long term, all of it.  _ We’ve waited so long, and we’re so close now, who was behind this, how do we respond… _

But, then again, she’d found out from the  _ news, _ not from a covert message from Bail. If there was any immediate worry, he would have reached out by now. So she trusted that he had things under control. Somehow.

That, of course, left her mind free to worry about her son, whose best friend had just been attacked and was hurt, maybe badly. And that demanded  _ all _ of her attention right now. Her--revelation could wait until she was sure he was okay.

She took a breath to make sure she had properly steadied herself, then stepped into the room, switching off the viewscreen as she did.

Luke looked up at her, pale and stricken. “We’re going back, right? To the capital? Instead of Alderaan, because--because Lani’s hurt, and she needs friends right now, and…”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Padme said. She sat next to him and held out her arms, offering a badly-needed hug.

“We  _ have _ to go back,” he said, his voice cracking a little.

Padme closed her eyes, and shook her head. “The Emperor will have locked down all the spaceports by now. Even if we went back, we would never get clearance to land.”

“But--but you could...or Aunt Sabe…”

“Not this time,” she said. “I’m sorry, Lulu. I promise, as soon as--as soon as we get back…”

“But that’ll be  _ days _ from now. Can we at least  _ try?” _

“No,” she said. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but no, we can’t. We  _ have  _ to make this trip, and...and you probably wouldn’t be allowed to see her until the security threat is resolved, anyway.”

He had been about to argue, but he deflated at that. He might not want to admit it, but he knew she was right. “I...I guess…” he said, glumly.

She hugged him close and stroked his hair. “What I  _ can  _ do is see if I can find out a little more from my contacts, all right? I can ask Uncle Bail, and have Dorme and the others start sending inquiries. We’ll probably know more than the news that way.”  _ Not to mention more  _ accurate _ than the news. _

“Okay,” he said, and buried his face in her shoulder.

For a long time, they sat there without speaking. She just held him, wishing there was more she could do to make things better. Wishing that whoever the hell had attacked Princess Lavinia--well, of course she wished they hadn’t done it at  _ all-- _ children, no matter  _ who _ their parents were, should be off limits--but  _ especially _ right now.

Eventually, he pulled away. He seemed calmer now--still upset, but processing. Coping. Holding himself together.

He glanced over at the viewscreen she’d shut off.

And it wasn’t--good, to shift his focus like this. To bring him from hearing some of the worst personal news he ever had to what she  _ hoped _ would be some of the best.

But it was her own damn fault for waiting for the perfect moment. Not only had it failed to come, she was now stuck with pretty much the exact  _ opposite. _

_ But what choice do I have at this point? _ she thought.  _ Lulu, sweetheart, I’m so sorry for screwing this up. You deserve better. _

“I’ll turn it on again in a minute,” she said, before he could actually ask. “But we need to talk first. There are some...some things I need to tell you before we get to Alderaan. Important things.”

“Okay,” Luke said. He still seemed distracted, legs swinging back and forth a little.

And, for all the times Padme had rehearsed this conversation in her head, for all the focus and attention she’d given to planning what she would say, even more than most of her floor speeches in the Senate...now that she was actually  _ here,  _ it all flew out of her head.

_ I guess even if I  _ had _ the perfect moment, it wouldn’t go the way I planned. _

“Lulu…you’ve never asked me about your birth parents.”

_ That _ got his attention.

He blinked, and stopped fidgeting. “…no…?”

“Have you ever wanted to?” she asked. “Been curious?”

He shook his head. “Why would I? I don’t need them, I’ve got you.”

Which was exactly the way it should be, of course.

Then he sat up a little straighter. “Wait, why—why are you asking now? What do they have to do with—I thought they were dead?” His eyes widened. “Did they—are they  _ not  _ dead? Are they trying to take me away?”

“What? No, no, sweetheart, of course not,” Padme said. “No one’s going to take you away from me.  _ Ever. _ I promise. Okay?”

“Okay,” he said, relieved. “But…but why are you asking me about them?”

“When you were born,” she said; just like she’d practiced, and she hoped it came out right. “When you were born…you were born right when the Emperor became the Emperor. And because of everything that had happened, because of the way the Clone Wars ended, that put your birth parents—your…your father, especially—in a lot of danger. And we were afraid that, because of that, you would be in danger, too.”

“So…” Luke said. “Wait. I don’t...I don’t get it? Who’s--is my father alive? What about my--did...did they give me to you? To keep me safe?”

She shook her head. “No, sweetheart,” she said. “No one gave you to me. I’m your mother. Your birth mother.”

He stared at her for a long moment. She could practically  _ see _ him trying to make it make sense. “But...but you adopted me?”

“Yes,” she said. “To protect you. And your father, and your sister.”

Which was the other part she’d worried about. Luke had been to Leia’s false grave at Varykino; he knew she’d had a daughter who was--gone. Padme had taken him to sit with her there a few times, and he might have gone there himself.

But for him to find out that  _ that _ had been a lie...it still made  _ her _ feel guilty and conflicted, and Luke had no way of knowing all the pressure and danger she’d been facing when she’d made that very difficult choice.

“My--my sister’s  _ alive?” _ he asked. “I have a  _ sister?” _

She nodded. “A twin,” she said. “Leia.”

“Leia,” he repeated. “Wow.”

“Listen,” she said, “I know this is--it’s a lot to take in. And I’m sure you have all kinds of questions, and I’m sorry for not telling you all of this sooner, but--”

“Is that why I have the dreams?” Luke interrupted. “About the place with the wide-open sky? Are those--are those my  _ sister’s _ dreams?”

“I don’t--um.” That wasn’t actually a question she was prepared for. She’d been ready for him to ask where they were, or who else had known, or why she hadn’t told him. But not about his dreams, which might or might not be visions. “I don’t know. Maybe,” she finally said. “Your father could probably answer that better.”

“My father,” he said, and paused for a second before his eyes widened again at a sudden realization. “When...when Lord Specter died...and you were upset, ‘cause...that was him?”

Padme flinched a little. She tried very, very hard not to think about those awful days, when the information had come in short, unclear bursts and all she’d known was that Anakin was--was hurt,  _ badly,  _ and there was nothing she could do.

But she owed Luke those answers now, at least the broad strokes. She knew he’d overheard things he shouldn’t have--that she’d been careless--so she wasn’t...wasn’t  _ totally _ surprised by the question.

“Yes,” she said. “That was...that was him.” Realizing how that might sound, she hastened to add, “But he’s all right now, so you don’t need to worry about that when you meet him.”

“Okay,” Luke said, and glanced one more time at the viewscreen, more thoughtful now.

“Princess Lavinia will get better, too,” Padme said, following his train of thought.

“I know,” he said, then shook his head and looked away, turning to hug her close. “Love you, Mamma.”

She hugged him back. “I love you, too,” she said.

He was quiet for another moment, then took a deep breath and changed the subject. “But...but about my...my dad.”

And, even if part of him probably just wanted to think about anything other than his injured friend right now, he  _ did  _ want to know. He’d been excited for a moment, before he’d gotten distracted, full of questions about the family he’d just learned he had. He was trying, she thought, to fall back into that excited moment. He  _ wanted _ to be happy about this.

For a long, long list of reasons, she was going to help him do that, however she could.

She kissed the top of his head. “Yeah?”

“Just...just...who is he?” Luke asked. “What’s he like? How come he’s in so much trouble with the Emperor?”

For a moment, Padme considered the best way to answer it, without just upsetting Luke again.

“Your father,” she finally said, “is one of the kindest, bravest men I know. His name is Anakin Skywalker, and he’s a Jedi Knight…”

 

* * *

 

“Relax,” Uncle Obi-Wan murmured, putting a light, reassuring hand on Dad’s shoulder.

“I’m perfectly relaxed,” Dad muttered back, shrugging him off.

Leia didn’t actually need the Force to know he was lying. But at least now he was more excited than worried. A nice change from the last couple of days.

Well.  _ Mostly _ excited, anyway.

“Still don’t really like our travel plans,” he admitted, in response to Uncle Obi-Wan’s skeptical eyebrow. Like he’d said  _ at least  _ twice a day since they’d left Tatooine. “Not enough flexibility for when and how we move.”

Uncle Obi-Wan gave a very tired-sounding sigh and started in on the same  _ response _ he’d given every other time. “Given the resources we have--”

“I know, I know.” He shook his head. “Doesn’t mean I have to  _ like _ it, though.”

“No, it doesn’t,” he said. “But it’s almost over. And then…”

“I know,” Dad said, and smiled a little. “Ten years.”

“Ten years,” Obi-Wan agreed, with a very faint smile of his own.

Despite what he’d said--what they’d both been saying  _ constantly _ for the last  _ three days-- _ Leia was pretty sure Uncle Obi-Wan didn’t actually like travelling like this all that much either. He was just better at hiding it.

And, to be fair, it  _ was _ kind of weird to be flying in a ship that a stranger was piloting. So Leia understood why they were a little bit tense. Sort of, anyway.

On the other hand, it was hard for her to actually feel that way herself, given where they were going and  _ why.  _ Plus, it was actually sort of cool, to see the galaxy from a whole new perspective than she usually did, slipping around the galaxy on the  _ Waterfall _ or Aunt ‘Soka’s ship with just her family.  _ And  _ they were going into the actual  _ Core, _ which had never been safe to visit before.

It probably shouldn’t have been safe this time, even, except this trip had been building for  _ ages. _ It had felt like something itching at the back of Leia’s mind for months, while Dad and Uncle Obi-Wan and everyone planned it. She’d known  _ something _ was up, of course, but when she’d tried asking, Dad had just promised he would tell her as soon as everything was in place. And then changed the subject.

Which was  _ probably _ a good opportunity for her to practice  _ patience. _ Or Uncle Obi-Wan would’ve said that, if she’d tried asking him (she hadn’t; she knew if Dad wouldn’t tell her, he probably wouldn’t either).

Leia wasn’t all that good at patience, though. And it had been a long,  _ long _ time of  _ knowing _ something Big was going on, but not enough to figure it out. At least she was pretty sure it was a good thing. Which made sense--good things, people usually had to plan for, and Dad and Uncle Obi-Wan were  _ planning _ something. Bad things, when they were big, only the Force knew until it happened.

She’d had a lot more silver planet dreams than usual since it had started, too, and that was usually a sign that important things were about to happen. Or around her birthday, for some reason. Even there, though, there had been a sense of  _ anticipation _ coloring everything, even if it was a whole lot vaguer than when she was awake.

But then,  _ finally,  _ last week, Dad had come home more happy than distracted for the first time in ages. And, first thing, the two of them had gone out to the canyon, but instead of lessons, he just sat down next to her on the edge for a talk.

For a few minutes, they’d just sat there, quiet. Leia took her cue from him and watched the horizon, focusing on a thin line of dust kicked up from a faraway speeder--too small to be a bantha, too fast to be an eopie. Not headed their way, and not in any trouble. Probably one of the farmers who lived on the other side of the Wastes, going into town.

Nothing she needed to worry about, but it was good to practice ‘evaluating potential threats,’ like Uncle Rex said.

She had just decided that when Dad broke the silence at last.

“We’re going on a trip,” he said. “You and me and Uncle Obi-Wan.”

She looked up at him. Obviously, this was a very, very different trip than the ones they’d gone on before. Even without the building tensions over last few months, she’d probably have known that just from the way he said it.

“Okay,” she said.

“I didn’t tell you before,” he said, “because I didn’t--there were a lot of things that could’ve gone wrong, while we were trying to put this together. And I didn’t want you to get your hopes up, if it--if we couldn’t make it work.”

“Okay,” she said again, frowning a little. “Where are we going?”

For a minute, she thought maybe--maybe, if she was lucky--they’d found a place for her to get a crystal. Maybe she was actually going to get a  _ lightsaber  _ of her own. She was ten now, which was a whole  _ year  _ past when she was, by her count, supposed to start going on real missions. Even though Dad had apparently forgotten, and no one had brought her into anything like that yet, either.

Except...wait, no. Dad wouldn’t even let her practice with his ‘saber--Aunt ‘Soka let her borrow hers, sometimes, but when Leia asked Dad, he just got a weird look on his face and muttered something about curious toddlers and changed the subject.

So that probably wasn’t it.

“Princess,” he said; then, “Leia, we’re going to go see your mother.”

Leia wasn’t at all sure she’d heard him right.She knew who her mom was, ‘cause Dad and everyone had told her stories. And she had sort of vague memories of her, as someone warm and kind and beautiful and a little bit sad. Or maybe worried was better.

But she also knew that it wasn’t safe for them, where her mom lived. Cause her mom was busy spying on the bad guys, probably, and if they ever tried to see her, they might all get caught and arrested, which meant people would get hurt.  _ Her _ people, not just the bad guys.

But Dad had never ever lied to her before.

“Really?” she said.

“Really,” he said, and smiled, and hugged her close. “It won’t be easy,” he added. “Getting there--and getting  _ back-- _ is going to be pretty dangerous. But I think it’s worth it.”

She nodded. “Definitely,” she agreed. The excitement was starting to bleed into her, too--not just reflected from Dad, but...she was finally going to meet her  _ mom. _

Not that she’d ever really--she had Dad, and all her aunts and uncles. She didn’t  _ need _ anything else. But she wondered, sometimes. That’s all.

“When are we going?” she asked.  _ “Where _ are we going?”

“Alderaan,” he said, answering her second question first. “And we’re leaving day after tomorrow, as soon as Obi-Wan gets here.”

That was a long way from home--practically in the Core, really close to Imperial Center. No one knew  _ her _ face, of course, but Dad and Uncle Obi-Wan would be in a  _ lot  _ of danger.

_ But it’s worth it, _ she said.  _ Like Dad said. And that’s probably why it took so long to set up, to make sure we’d be okay getting in and out. _

He’d explained the whole plan to her, then--they were travelling under fake names, Joren and Wat and Maia Retak. To make the disguises even better, Dad and Uncle Obi-Wan had both made their hair darker, more like hers. Uncle Obi-Wan had also gotten rid of his beard, which was the  _ weirdest thing _ she’d ever seen.

Aunt ‘Soka and Uncle Rex had a mission, working with a friend of theirs Leia had never met, but they’d dropped them off on their way. That had been three days ago, and from that first stop, they’d boarded a crowded passenger shuttle that took them into the Mid Rim, spent a day pretending to be tourists and looking at some really boring rock formations, then caught another shuttle from there, and then two more transports before this one, their last.

And now here they were at last, dropping out of hyperspace in orbit around Alderaan.

Which was  _ beautiful-- _ all blue-green and swirly and welcoming. She slipped away from Dad and Uncle Obi-Wan to go to the viewport and stare down at it.

Sure, she’d seen pretty, vibrant planets before, but this one felt special. It sang in her head like the silver planet or the green place.

She felt Dad’s hand on her shoulder. “Stay close, sweetheart, all right?”

“Sorry,” she said.

He squeezed briefly, then let go and took her hand instead. “Come on, time to strap in, anyway. We’ll be landing soon.”

And then meeting some kind of contact at the spaceport, who would sneak them in through the city, and  _ then, _ for the first time since she was too little to remember, she’d get to see her mom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the sporadic updates lately. RL got pretty hectic for a while (and the next month or so is going to be super busy...) I'm going to try and update every two weeks through the end of March (possibly extending into/through April, depending on how things go), and then get back to regular weekly updates. ::fingers crossed, knock on wood, etc.::
> 
> Thanks again for being patient and sticking around! <3 ~shadowsong


	58. Part 6, Chapter 3

Security, when they landed in Aldera City, was tighter than Obi-Wan had expected. Regular port security--both local and Imperial--had been supplemented by...well not a _full_ garrison, perhaps, but he counted at least a dozen extra troopers.

Anakin was on high alert, but hiding it far better than he used to. He kept a firm grip on Leia’s hand and scanned the crowd mostly inconspicuously.

Enough so that, when they finally got to the customs desk--manned by one of the stormtroopers, rather than a regular customs official--Obi-Wan was fairly sure the trooper wasn’t any more suspicious of them than he had been of everyone else.

“Let me see your identification,” he demanded.

“Yeah,” Anakin said--he was getting much better about holding to a cover, too; even Obi-Wan could barely hear the tension underlying his voice. Anyone else who managed would likely put it down to a perfectly reasonable concern due to the upgraded security.

The trooper scanned their cards, studying whatever readout popped up in his helmet. “What’s your business on Alderaan?”

“Maia’s mother was...from here,” Anakin said, just as they’d planned, pulling Leia a little closer to him. “I want her to have more than stories.”

Half-truths were always better than outright lies. Easier to remember, and easier to make credible. Either Obi-Wan or Anakin _could_ mind trick the trooper if it didn’t work, of course, but best to avoid that if at all possible.

“Where are you staying?” he asked, after mulling that over for a minute. “With relatives?”

“Unfortunately, no,” Obi-Wan cut in. “That side of the family has scattered, and we’re not in very close touch. We’re meeting a distant cousin, who’s going to show us around, but we won’t be staying with him. I understand he doesn’t have room.” He was careful to sound slightly annoyed at the prospect.

“Uh-huh,” he said. He was silent for another moment, studying them through his mask. “All right. You’ll need to provide your cousin’s contact details, and the address where you’ll be staying.” He passed back their IDs, along with a datastick. “Your visas are for three days, and you do _not_ have permission to leave the city. The datastick has a map of areas that are off limits to ordinary citizens, and there is a curfew for tourists at 2100 hours. Obey the restrictions and make your flight, or you will be detained. Next!”

Obi-Wan stepped on Anakin’s foot, because he could _see_ him about to mouth off. _Well, at least he lasted_ this _long. Given everything that’s at stake today..._ “Joren, come on.”

“Yeah, I’m coming,” he said, grabbing their papers and taking Leia’s hand again. “All right, princess?”

“Yeah, Dad,” she said. She was watching the crowd, too; noting where the troopers were and--no, not the troopers; she was keeping an eye out for who _they_ were watching.

 _Clever girl,_ he said, with a mingled pride and sadness, that she already knew those tricks. _They’re either truly dangerous criminals or potential allies. Either way, people worth noting._

“Is it just me,” Anakin asked, once they were out of the spaceport proper and no longer being watched quite so closely, “or…?”

“Yes, I know what you mean,” Obi-Wan said. “While we wait for our cousin, we might try to find a news feed. I hope nothing’s happened.”

“Yeah,” he said.

“There’s a cafe over there,” Leia said. “They might have a feed, and it’s not a cantina so I can come with you.”

Anakin glanced over at him. “Good a place as any, right?”

On the one hand, there was almost certainly nothing they could do about whatever security threat was in play. And there was a very good chance that, whether or not it had anything to do with anyone they knew--or even the three of them directly; though that was unlikely, otherwise Bail would have warned him--it would only serve as a point of stress. Spoil what was supposed to be a _long_ overdue time of joy.

On the other hand, the more they knew, the better they could handle whatever else got thrown at them. The better they could keep the children safe.

 _Better to know,_ he decided. _There is no ignorance, there is knowledge._

“Well, we are a bit off schedule, so we might have to wait for Arid a bit,” Obi-Wan agreed, keeping his voice light as he could. Maintaining his cover. “And they probably have hot chocolate.” Which made Leia perk up quite a bit, and coaxed an amused smile and a hint of relaxation out of Anakin.

_Good._

Obi-Wan bit back a smile of his own. “Come along, then, follow me.”

Anakin followed, keeping Leia between the two of them. Unlikely they would lose her even if he didn’t, of course, but he felt more secure that way.

But then, when they were halfway across the plaza--

“Wat!”

He turned, and--yes, that was their contact. One of the crew from the _Tantive,_  who had been with them ten years ago. Low ranked enough to not draw undue attention, but someone he would recognize. Just as he and Bail had agreed.

“Arid, it’s good to see you,” he said, forcing his shoulders to relax and wearing an open smile.

“You, too,” he said, grinning. “Joren, hi.”

Anakin nodded. “Hey,” he said.

“And this must be Maia,” Arid said, turning to Leia.

“Hi,” she said. “Uncle Wat told me lots about you.” Which was not precisely true--Obi-Wan didn’t know enough about Arid Lendry to tell Leia much, but she was a remarkably convincing liar when she wanted to be.

At least when speaking to a stranger.

“Really?” he said. “Well, I’m flattered. Hope they were nice things.”

“They were,” she said, and smiled a little. Anakin squeezed her shoulder briefly.

“We were just about to call you,” Obi-Wan said. “From the cafe--we got held up a bit in the port, and missed our planned meeting.”

Arid nodded. “Yeah, all the troopers, I’m not surprised.”

“Do you know what happened?” Anakin asked.

Arid glanced down at Leia again, and Anakin made a show of covering her ears.

She rolled her eyes and unmistakably _sulked,_ but Obi-Wan was sure she could hear everything anyway.

“There was a bombing, on Imperial Center,” Arid said, lowering his voice. “In the Senate district. Midmorning, local, so late yesterday here.”

And, despite the gravity of the news, he could _feel_ a faint trace of relief from Anakin, bleeding into the Force next to him, and couldn’t help but feel the same, for the barest of moments.

 _It’s nothing to do with us, or with our trip here,_ he thought. _So it’s...at least it’s not as bad as it could have been. We’ll need to be careful, but--well, we would have needed to be careful anyway._

Of course, the relief didn’t last long. For either him or Anakin. Because even if it was no threat to _them,_ a bomb planted in the Senate district, midmorning, could have gotten--very, very ugly.

“I do hope no one was hurt too badly,” he said.

“They haven’t reported any serious casualties, but I only know what they’ve been saying on the news,” Arid said. “I guess the HoloNet hookup on the liner wasn’t great?”

“No, not really,” Anakin said. He let go of Leia’s ears, took her hand in one of his, and gestured for Arid to lead them on with the other. “So it was a surprise when things were so...so tense when we landed.”

“It’s not usually like that,” Arid assured them, as they started across the plaza to where he, assuming everything was still going to plan, would have a speeder waiting. “Alderaan is a peaceful planet. We always have been.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said. “Better to be careful, I suppose,” he added, with a half glance back at the port. And whether he meant the Imperial response, or the need to keep their own heads down, or something else entirely--that was for any observers to decide for themselves.

Anakin rather smoothly changed the subject, asking a few general questions about the best ways to get around the city. Questions they had already researched, of course, just in case, but it passed the time and should pacify any suspicious observers. Obi-Wan chimed in at appropriate moments, but was only half-listening; keeping an eye out for trouble. As one of them always did, in unfamiliar surroundings.

After a ten-minute walk, they were at last safely in the speeder, and Arid immediately dropped all pretense. “We can talk in here,” he said. “Solid countersurveillance, or I wouldn’t be picking you up in it.”

“Good to hear,” Obi-Wan said.

“I’m glad you made it through security,” Arid added. “We were worried.”

“So were we, for a minute there,” Anakin said. “But our IDs held up and everything.”

Arid nodded, and sent a quick message before starting the speeder. “We’re all set at the Palace. So far as we can tell, this is more of a general heightened-security situation, rather than an actual crackdown.”

Also good--while not a guarantee, it made it much less likely that the Palace itself would be examined too closely. Another point of tension in the back of Obi-Wan’s neck unknotted at the thought.

“As a response to the bombing,” Anakin said.

“Yeah,” Arid said, and glanced up at them in the mirror. “Any thoughts on it? Or who might be responsible?”

“Not really,” Anakin said, and tapped Leia’s shoulder. She looked up at him for a minute; he raised an eyebrow. She sighed, and pulled out her headphones, settling in to stare out the window and do her best not to eavesdrop.

While she was settling, Obi-Wan considered the question, then shook his head. “None of the cells we work with regularly would attempt something like this, I don’t think.”

“We know there _are_ cells out there that might,” Anakin said. “Problem is, we don’t really have much of a relationship with any of them. But that might be changing soon.”

“We have an opportunity to reach out to...one of the more radical cells, out in the Outer Rim,” Obi-Wan said. “According to our intelligence, at least.”

“They’re affiliated with one of Ashla’s old contacts,” Anakin added.

Which was a large part of why Ahsoka was there and not here with them. She had wanted to come, of course, but between that, and the fact that she would make it a lot harder for them to blend in--a small Human family was one thing, but her species and, more importantly, their history together just might be enough to draw attention they couldn’t afford.

“We’re not sure if he has the resources to make a strike on Coruscant itself,” he added. “But if he doesn’t, he might well know the people who do.”

“Right,” Arid said.

“Beyond that, I’m not sure what else we can tell you,” Anakin said. “Sorry. Especially without...without knowing much about the target.” He frowned, and glanced over at Leia, who was still staring out the window.

“Something wrong?” Arid asked.

“No, not really,” he said. “But I can’t…” Anakin hesitated. “I’m sorry, I really--I _can’t_ worry any more about this right now. The bombing. And the fewer details I know…”

The less likely he’d be to fixate on some of it, and take away from a reunion that was already going to be _far_ too short.

“I’ll handle it,” Obi-Wan assured him, before Arid could try to object. “What there is to handle from here, anyway. I’m not sure there’s much of anything we _can_ do. But I'll keep an eye on the situation, and unless there is something, and I absolutely need you for it, I’ll wait and brief you when we leave.”

Anakin nodded, visibly relieved. “I trust you,” he said. “To know what I need to know.”

“Good,” he said, and smiled.

Arid, while disappointed, handled it with grace. “All right,” he said. “General Kenobi, we can talk in more detail later?”

“Of course,” he said.

With that settled--and the subject officially tabled for now--Anakin tapped Leia on the shoulder again, and she pulled out her headphones. “Thanks, princess,” he said, and bent over to kiss the top of her head briefly.

“Sure,” she said, rolling her eyes a little but not making any attempt to duck out of the way.

The four of them fell quiet then and Obi-Wan, too, set aside all thoughts of the bombing. Minute by minute, they drew closer to the Palace. Right now--for a few hours, anyway, everything else could wait.

 

* * *

 

Mom was settled on the couch in the suite Uncle Bail had set up for them, pretending to read something on her datapad, but really looking up at the window at least once or twice every minute.

Winter was teaching Luke how to play a board game, and he was _trying_ to pay attention, really he was. It was just...hard right now.

Everything Mom had told him on the flight over was still buzzing through his head.

Mom was his _birth_ mother, and had lied to him and _everyone_ about it, so the Emperor wouldn’t hunt him down.

His father was _alive,_ and coming _here_ to meet them.

He had a _sister._

It didn’t really feel _real_ yet, except that it made so much of his life make _so much_ more sense. His dreams, how they made Mom worry…

It was like there’d been pieces missing from him for ever and ever and now they were all fitting back into place.

“Your move, Luke,” Winter prompted gently, jerking him out of his thoughts.

“Right,” he said. “Um.” He hesitated for a second, then cautiously picked up one of his pieces and moved it a few spaces to the left. “I can move him that way, right?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Just not on the diagonals.”

“Got it,” he said.

Winter thought it through for half a minute, studying the board and chewing her lower lip, then made her own move, sidestepping one of his pieces and blocking him in to win the game. If he remembered the rules right.

And, sure enough, “Sorry, Luke,” she said. “You did pretty good though, for your first try.”

“I’ll do better next time,” he said.  “Thanks for teaching me.”

“Sure,” she said, and smiled. “We can go again if you want?”

Before he could answer, there was a soft tap on the door, and Aunt Sabe came in.

Mom half stood up, clutching her datapad a little nervously. “Any news?” she asked.

“They’re in the lift now,” Aunt Sabe said, and Luke’s heart jumped a little.

His father. And his sister. They were just--just--not _even_ minutes away now.

He was already standing next to Mom before he realized he’d forgotten to actually excuse himself from Winter.

“Oh, good, they made it,” Mom said softly, squeezing his hand once, comforting, before letting go.

“I should go tell my parents,” Winter said. Even though they probably already knew--Mom always knew important things like that before Luke could tell her.

“Thank you,” Mom said.

Winter bowed briefly, grinned a little at Luke and mouthed ‘good luck!’, then slipped out the door, with Aunt Sabe following.

Leaving Luke and Mom alone. Waiting.

They stood there for a second that felt like forever, and then, finally, the lift door slid open.

There were two men and a girl standing there. The taller man, with a scar across one eye and another going along his chin, lit up like the sun when he saw Luke and Mom. The other, a little older, gave them a much softer smile, warm and kind and happy and sinking right to the base of Luke’s spine.

The girl--the girl looked sort of confused at first, taking in the whole room, tilting her head, like she was trying to figure something out.

Then she met Luke’s eyes. And hers went wide, and even if he hadn’t already guessed, he would’ve _known._

A sudden bolt of _understanding_ flew between them. Just a split-second flash of _I know you._

His _sister._ Leia.

He grinned, and waved at her.

She waved back.

 _“Ani,”_ Mom breathed, and took a step toward the lift.

“Padme,” he said, and met her halfway, pulling her into a tight hug. “I _missed_ you.”

“I know,” she said, wrapping her arms around him. “I know, I know.” She let go and studied him for a second, then laughed a little, except she was crying at the same time. She picked up his hand and kissed it.

She was  _happy;_ so happy Luke could feel it spilling out of her even without looking.

Then, without letting go of the scarred man--of his  _father--_ Mom held out her other hand to Luke.

Leia, across the room, didn’t wait for an invitation--or even the nudge the other man gave her shoulder--before going to join their parents.

Their _parents._

Mom, still smiling--still crying--said, “There’s someone you should meet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the much longer hiatus than planned. <3 But I should be back now ::knock on wood, etc.::
> 
> Thanks so much for coming back/sticking around/your patience! <3
> 
> ~shadowsong


	59. Part 6, Chapter 4

In six years of drifting on her own and then four of working with Anakin and Obi-Wan and Rex again, Ahsoka had been on a lot of occupied planets.

This one didn’t stick out much from the crowd. The air was full of that too-familiar, all-encompassing weight of the Empire’s boot on their necks, undercut by an electric tension of  _ things-will-Happen-here _ that made her montrals twitch.

To be fair, that undercurrent only came on occupied planets with active insurgencies, but it was still a very familiar feeling.

For some reason, though, it resonated with her more than usual. Maybe because of her history with the cell they thought--they  _ hoped _ \--was here. Maybe because she wasn’t usually the one to make a cold contact like this. Maybe because, with half her family in the Core under fake IDs, who stood to lose  _ everything _ if they were caught, she was already tense.

Of course, the fact that there had been someone following her and Rex for the past six blocks, flickering along her senses at a strange nexus of  _ threat-not-a-threat, _ probably didn’t help.

“All right?” Rex murmured, steady at her side.

“Yeah,” she said, taking a breath and letting it out slowly, forcing herself to relax.  _ Patience. Either he’s still here or he isn’t. Either you drew attention from his cell or you drew attention from someone else. Or maybe you’re just borrowing trouble. Whatever it is, worrying about it won’t make a difference at this point. _ “I just don’t like the waiting parts.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” he said, and, despite the mask hiding his face, she could  _ feel _ him grinning at her.

Not through the Force, either. She just  _ knew. _

She rolled her eyes. “Like you’re any better.”

He huffed a laugh, and didn’t try to deny it. “It won’t be much longer, at least,” he said.

“You noticed?” she said, dropping the facade.

“Yep.” He considered for a moment. “Of course, we haven’t exactly been making it hard on them.”

“True,” she said. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to delay a little longer. See what they’re really made of.”

“My thoughts exactly,” he said. “You up for a bit of a chase?”

She gave him a pointed, sideways grin of her own. “Always.”

Rex picked the first feint, taking a sharp left into a busy marketplace. Ahsoka followed, keeping one half of her mind behind them, making sure they didn’t actually  _ lose _ their target in the crowd.

Their pursuer matched them, inching closer through the crowd; most likely to avoid losing their quarry. They were  _ good; _ Ahsoka couldn’t pick out exactly who in the milling crowd behind them was the tail.

“Cut through here,” Ahsoka said, flicking her fingers at a building up ahead; some kind of local transit station.

“Yep,” he said. “And then a roof run?”

The idea  _ was _ tempting--but the longer they drew this out, the likelier it was they’d attract much less welcome attention.

“Let’s see where things stand on the other side.”

“Got it,” he said, and followed her into the station.

At which point the two of them slammed right into a massive crowd, much denser than in the market outside.

“Kriff,” Ahsoka muttered. “This’ll be fun.”

“That’s a word for it,” Rex said. “Turn back?”

She shook her head. “More trouble than it’s worth. If we get separated, go for plan qek, all right?”

He sighed, and was probably pulling a face behind his mask--plan qek was  _ not _ his favorite--but nodded. “All right.”

They plunged into the sea of beings, weaving their way through and staying as close as they could without being disruptive or causing a scene. It took them an increasingly tense ten minutes--including a full seven seconds where Ahsoka almost lost track of Rex and started looking for vertical routes before she spotted him, two meters ahead of her, and scrambled to catch up.

Not the  _ longest _ ten minutes of her life, or even of this week, but still  _ not _ something she wanted to deal with again anytime soon.

But finally, those ten minutes ended, and she and Rex broke through to a dusty street on the other side of the station, with about half the milling foot traffic of the market they’d gone through earlier.

For a moment, when she got her bearings, Ahsoka thought they’d lost their tail in the mess in the station. Then, to her relief, just over a block away, that distinctive  _ threat-not-a-threat _ taste filled the air again.

“I think this has gone on long enough,” she said.

“Probably,” Rex agreed.

“There’s an alley to the right up ahead. Should be a good spot, you think?”

He nodded once. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Ahsoka angled her path just slightly, trusting Rex to watch ahead while she focused her attention behind them.

_ Come and get us, _ she challenged the being at their heels silently.  _ Whoever you are. _

She felt them take the bait, quickening their pace and closing the remaining distance. She tapped Rex’s arm at the last second before she ducked into the alley. As one, they turned to face their pursuer. Rex had a pistol in his hand; Ahsoka left her sabers where they were.

The being paused, clearly unsurprised but wary.

He was a Kel Dor, armed with a simple staff; and Ahsoka couldn’t help but line him up against--against her memories, however hard she tried not to dwell on the past.

But he was shorter and leaner than Master Plo had been, and had none of her friend’s calm, easy warmth. Rather than giving her a feeling of peace and comfort, this man was full of wary, violent, tension. Not directed at her or Rex, not necessarily, but…

Hungry. Predatory.

_ I think we were right; we found our cell, _ she thought.  _ Or  _ a _ cell, anyway. We definitely found  _ something.

“You were following us,” Rex said, without lowering his weapon.

“You gave me reason to,” the Kel Dor replied, in Sy Bisti, rather than Basic. Deceptively casual, he shifted his hands on his staff.

“We have a mutual friend,” Ahsoka said, in the same language.

He stared at her, and said nothing.

“Tell him Ahsoka Tano is here, and wants to talk,” she continued, ignoring the faint, sharp breath Rex took at her side. “I’ll be at the Grey Wind cantina on the edge of town in two hours.” She and Rex had scouted it, along with several other spots, when they’d first gotten here, and agreed it was the best option for the meeting, if they had an actual choice. Not a lot of troopers patronized it, but the clientele were not exclusively locals, either. She and Rex wouldn’t stand out too much.

Exactly the kind of location they needed.

The Kel Dor tilted his head, considering. “Ahsoka Tano,” he said.

“That’s right.”

“I’ll tell him,” he said at last. “You give me five minutes before you leave.”

“Agreed,” Rex said.

He studied them for another moment, as if wanting to be sure, then made his way out of the alley. He waited until the very last second to turn his back on them and rejoin the normal flow of traffic.

“Risky,” Rex said, holstering his gun once their contact was out of range. Keeping his hand near it, just in case.

“I know,” Ahsoka said.

He nodded, and didn’t question it any further than that. “We should go.”

“Yeah.”

She followed him out of the alley, taking a wandering, circuitous route through the streets of the town towards the Grey Wind.

He was right. It  _ had _ been risky, revealing her real name to an unknown quantity like that. Especially one that put her on edge like this.

(What was it Obi-Wan had said, a lifetime ago, about the fine line between insurgency and terrorism?)

On the other hand, it wasn’t like she and Rex reaching out to a  _ total _ stranger here, and her name would maybe get them through the door, but...well, it had been a long time. So many things had changed.

But not  _ that  _ much. She was sure of it.

He might not be interested in being her friend anymore, but, apart from her own family, Saw Gerrera was still the  _ last _ person in the galaxy that Ahsoka would expect to hand her over to the Empire.

 

* * *

 

Rex and Ahsoka made it to the Grey Wind with about fifteen minutes to spare, and found an empty table near a double handful of smugglers playing some variant on sabacc. Their table was in a corner where they could keep an eye on the rest of the place without being too obvious about it, and the players, all of whom were fully invested in their game, provided a handy screen against any unfriendly eavesdroppers. The downside was, it was pretty far from the exit if things did go south, but they had both singled it out as the best place to wait for Saw anyway.

Ahsoka kept one eye on the players--partly to spot any trouble coming from that direction, partly because seeming interested in the game itself was a decent cover.

Rex picked up drinks at the bar for them while she got into position. Neither of them did much more than pretend to drink, but in the interests of blending in…

But no sooner had they settled in then a familiar shadow fell across the table.

“So, it really is you,” he said. “I couldn’t believe it.”

It had been over a decade since the last time she’d seen Saw Gerrera, and the years had definitely left their mark on her friend. There were scars she didn’t remember seeing, both on the surface and in the shadows behind his eyes. And he’d filled out some, too, and grown a beard. He was older, obviously, and...harder, which made her a little sad.

But not, given how she remembered him and everything that had happened since, especially  _ surprised. _

“Sorry for turning up unannounced like this,” she said. “But…”

“I understand,” he said. He studied her for a moment, then took the seat Rex had left open for him. His shoulders relaxed a little, and he flashed a brief, but genuine, smile. “I’m glad you’re alive. Both of you.”

“Likewise,” she said, with feeling. “What about the others?”

He shook his head. “Scattered, or dead. Most of them melted back into their own lives as best they could, that last year or so of the War, after we put the King back into power and drove the Separatists out. A few came back to help me fight the Empire when the time came, but not all of them. It was probably better, not to seek them out. I made some new friends, over the years.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. Because what else could she say? She understood it, at least in part--as difficult as it had been, hadn’t Anakin and Obi-Wan and Master Yoda made a similar decision, ten years ago? True,  _ she _ hadn’t exactly done that herself; she had tried and failed to contact Padme more than once, but...well, she understood.

He shrugged. “It’s war,” he said.

Which was almost harder to hear, than that so many people,  _ friends, _ were probably dead. But Ahsoka knew how  _ that _ felt, too. And, of course, she knew that it was better not to dwell on her losses. But there was a difference between that and letting yourself grow numb. And it sounded like Saw was closer to the second than the first.

Then again, after Steela…

No other loss probably compared.

“But I’m guessing you didn’t come here just to talk about old times,” Saw went on, changing the subject before she could offer up any other kind of sympathy.

“No,” she admitted, letting him do it--this was neither the time nor the place to push him or reopen old wounds. And she  _ did _ have a mission to accomplish here. “We wanted to establish contact with you--contact we hope we can maintain, long term. Because this  _ is _ going to be a long-term kind of war.”

Saw caught her meaning right away. He leaned back in his chair, considering. “I’d heard whispers, of a wider, more organized rebellion,” he said. “That’s you?”

“To a point,” she said. “We’re building one, anyway. A network of resistance movements and cells like yours throughout the galaxy.”

“Meaning what?”

“Information sharing, mostly,” Rex put in. “At least for now. Some resources, too--weapons, medical supplies, other relief to planets we can’t help liberate, sometimes. Our cell is pretty mobile, and we help out anywhere we can, any way we can, in addition to making these connections.”

“The point is, the Empire is too big for any one cell to take on alone,” Ahsoka said. “Someday, we  _ will _ be an organized, galactic movement. We  _ have  _ to be. And we’re slowly, carefully, building up to that now. So we have it when the time comes. And part of that is reaching out to cells like yours, and drawing them in.”

Saw frowned down at his commlink, and nodded once. “Maybe you’re right,” he said. “Still, it’s a risk. My people and I keep an eye on other groups--not anything like what you’re talking about, we don’t have the resources, but we know how to read between the lines when things happen. And the other cells we’re watching...not all of them know what this war will cost. Not all of them are willing to  _ pay _ that price.”

_ And some of them go too far, _ she thought, remembering, again, what Obi-Wan had said about that fine line. The one she and her friends worked very,  _ very _ hard to stay on the right side of.

Saw…

Well. Some of their intel said he wasn’t always as careful as they were.

_ But he  _ does  _ have a point, _ Ahsoka said.  _ About some people being unwilling to act. Sometimes for very good reason, and sometimes...well, he has a point. But hopefully, we can rein groups like his in and spur the others on, by uniting somewhere near the middle. _

So, out loud, she just said, “But there’s a lot to gain. And we  _ will _ have to unite eventually.”

Saw chewed that over for a minute. “It’s interesting, what you’re suggesting. I’m not gonna deny that. But I don’t know if  _ eventually  _ is  _ now,” _ he said. “Sharing intel, sure. I’m more than willing to do that. Like I said, I keep tabs, but if you’ve already got a network, we can help each other out. I’m not sure how much else I can commit just yet.”

“That’s fair,” Ahsoka said. And about what she’d expected, anyway, though of course she’d  _ hoped _ for more.

“Thanks for understanding,” Saw said. “...are you two going to be here for a while?”

“We could be,” Rex said. “We don’t usually stay in one place very long, but our next scheduled rendezvous isn’t for a few days.”

“Right,” he said. “I have a plan in motion, one that should play out over the next couple of days. Before you leave. Work with me and my team--both of you. We could always use some extra help from people we can trust.”

Ahsoka exchanged a glance with Rex--they  _ could  _ help Saw out with whatever he had going on. Like Rex had said, they didn’t have anywhere else to be for a while. They certainly didn’t have any other missions planned. They hadn’t been sure, first of all, how long it would take them to find Saw, if he hadn’t moved on since their intel had placed him here a week ago. Besides, they wanted to avoid drawing attention to their own cell this week. They’d been planning to lie low, one way or the other, until the others were safely out of the Core.

Teaming up with  _ another _ cell on something, on the other hand, was a whole other beast to track.

Besides, if Saw was on the fence with helping them build a true galactic rebel alliance, this might help sway him to their cause.

Rex nodded once, and Ahsoka turned back to Saw. “Sure,” she said. “Where do you need us?”

Saw smiled. “Meet me in an hour on the other side of town, by the clock tower,” he said. “We can talk details there.”

So they wouldn’t be overheard, or seen leaving the cantina together. “Sounds good,” Ahsoka said.

“Great,” he said. “I’ll see you there in an hour.”

“We’ll be there,” Rex said.

Saw nodded, and stood up. He paused for a second. “It really is good, seeing you again,” he said, then headed off into the crowd before either of them could reply.

“I think that went pretty well,” Ahsoka said, softly, once he was out of earshot. And, even if a part of her still felt a little unsettled, still keyed up from that sense of  _ things-will-Happen-here _ lingering in the air...

“About as well as we could’ve expected,” Rex agreed. “Another five minutes, then we follow?”

“Yeah,” she said, pulling her attention back to the card players and faking a sip of her drink. “Another five minutes should do it.”

And from there...they’d just have to play it by ear. Another waiting game.

But at least this time she knew for  _ sure _ she was waiting on a friend.


	60. Part 6, Chapter 5

_ “There’s someone you should meet.” _

Padme’s hand was warm in his, feeling exactly like it had ten years ago; Leia was right behind him, poking her head around for a better look; and  _ Luke _ was on Padme’s other side, a little shy, a little nervous, maybe; but both kids were practically  _ vibrating  _ with anticipation and curiosity. He probably wouldn’t have needed the Force to pick  _ that _ up.

If Anakin could have held on to this moment and made it last forever, he would have. Because the four of them were  _ together _ again, at last, after ten years, and it was...it was...it was everything he’d ever hoped it could be. It was, if not actually perfect, the next best thing. Near enough that if it weren’t for the wholly tactile sense of Padme’s hand on his--and the fact that his actual dreams were  _ never _ this happy--he wouldn’t have believed it was  _ real. _

And  _ Padme-- _ just seeing her again was...was...he didn’t have the words for it. It was almost like picking up where they’d left off, in some ways. She hadn’t changed all that much. Not in any way that mattered. Sure, there were were new lines decorating her face--soft smile lines at the corners of her eyes and worry lines traced across her forehead, but those just made her more beautiful. She was still small and dark-haired and perfect and brilliant, burning through his every sense with her bright light of courage and joy and kindness.

(She definitely hadn’t changed as much as  _ he  _ had--he only hoped she wasn’t disappointed in what she saw.)

She  _ was _ happy, though--brilliantly, deliriously happy; just as happy as he was. There was that. He held on to that, as hard as he could.

In all honesty, he didn’t want to take his eyes off of her--not ever,  _ ever _ again--but this wasn’t just about the two of them. There was Leia--and Luke.

Anakin let go of his wife’s hand and turned his attention to his son, smiling down at him. “Hello, Luke,” he said.

“Hi,” he said, with a warm but slightly tentative smile of his own.

And, even though he’d spent probably  _ way  _ too much time over the past ten years planning and preparing for this moment, every possible thing Anakin could say flew  _ right  _ out of his head. “I’m. Uh. I’m your dad. You’ve...you’ve grown a lot, since the last time I saw you.”

He was babbling. Oh, Force, he was  _ babbling, _ why did he  _ always do this. _

Leia cut in then, much to his relief, stepping all the way out in front of him. Out of habit, and because he liked having her close, he rested his hands on her shoulders and squeezed lightly; trying to be encouraging.

Not that she seemed to need it. “I’m Leia,” she said. “You’re my brother.”

She was a lot better at this kind of thing than he was. Just like her mother.

“Hi,” Luke said, grinning at her, most of his shyness gone. “I always wanted a sister. Prob’ly should’ve figured out I already had one.”

She beamed at him, with an open, easy confidence and familiarity that Anakin found extremely encouraging, if completely unsurprising. They’d been dreaming about one another for years, after all. And even without the dreams, Anakin suspected they would’ve recognized one another right away. They had always been tied together in the Force--two starbursts; that was how he’d seen them from the very beginning, before he even knew what he was looking at. Of  _ course _ they greeted each other like old friends. Even if each of them had a parent they barely remembered, and that was a different story.

And, sure enough, Leia looked up at Padme then, and Anakin felt a faint stab of uncertainty--almost matching the look Luke had given him--which she quickly covered up with a stubborn, determined smile. “Hi,” she said.

Padme smiled back. “Hello, Leia,” she said. She paused for half a second there; as if even  _ she _ wasn’t totally sure what to say. “I’ve...I’ve missed you,” she finally added. “So much.”

It was all pretty overwhelming, Anakin thought. For all four of them.

“Yeah,” Leia said. “It’s good to meet you. Um. See you again.” She flushed a little. “Hi.”

“We have a lot of catching up to do, I know,” Padme said. “...can I give you a hug? I feel like that’s a good place to start.”

“Sure,” Leia said, and Anakin let her go. She stepped into Padme’s waiting arms; after a beat, she wrapped her own around her mother’s waist.

And they just-- _ fit. _ Everything settled into place around them, and that slightly uncertain tension that had been hovering around them at least  _ mostly _ dissipated. Even though, like Padme had said, they still had a  _ lot _ of catching up to do--so much stolen time to make up for--they’d passed this first, awkward hurdle.

As with so many things, his wife had been  _ absolutely _ right--hugs were an excellent place to start.

On that note…

Anakin half-turned back to Luke, and opened his arms in silent invitation.

Luke lit up and half-collided with him in his rush to accept, warm and bright and happy like another sun in the sky.

Anakin wasn’t sure how long the four of them stayed like that--not long enough, in some ways, but...well, one step at a time. Like Padme had said, this was just the beginning. They had three days together. There would be more hugs. There would be more of a  _ lot  _ of things.

So he let go, before it got awkward; around when Padme let go of Leia. Since Luke didn’t seem interested in pulling away, that was probably his best gauge for timing on all of this.

“Missed you, sunshine,” he said, ruffling Luke’s hair. And, by some miracle, managed to leave it at that.

“M’glad you and Leia could come, Dad,” Luke said, which was--Anakin would have to ask other people with more than one kid, if that first time being called ‘Dad’ still felt special with each one. Because it sure as hell did for him.

There was a brief silence then, with none of them quite sure what to say after that. Leia finally broke the spell, which was another completely unsurprising thing, tugging on Anakin’s sleeve to get his attention.

“Hey, Dad, can we go outside?” she asked. “‘Cause I saw the gardens from the lift and they look  _ really cool.” _

His first instinct was to say yes, of course--the gardens here  _ were _ beautiful, enough that he kind of wanted to explore them himself. Besides, it had been a long time since her last off-planet adventure, a long time with just the desert around her to see. And they’d never been able to sneak her into someplace like this. She should have this opportunity.

Still, while Anakin knew Senator Organa would’ve thought of this and made sure the kids would have time and a safe place to play outside together, he wasn’t sure exactly what the boundaries were. And they still couldn’t afford to be discovered.

So he deferred to Padme. “What do you think?”

“I think that’s a great idea,” Padme said. “We can all explore for a while, and get to know one another a little better.”

“Sounds good,” Anakin said. ...and then turned back to the door because he’d just realized that Obi-Wan had been standing there this  _ entire time, _ on the fringes of their reunion, and they hadn’t--Force, they hadn’t introduced him to Luke, hadn’t even really given him a chance to say hello to Padme...

Though, in their defense, they  _ had _ had a pretty good reason to be distracted.

But Obi-Wan smiled and shook his head. “I’ll leave you four to it,” he said. “I should say hello to our hosts, anyway.”

Which...well, a part of Anakin wanted to object. Obi-Wan was part of their family, too--an  _ important _ part--and he had come to Alderaan with them for a  _ reason. _ Beyond just coordinating and touching base with Senator Organa, on a more extended, in-depth basis than they’d been able to manage since Polis Massa. This reunion was for  _ him, _ too.

But at the same time…

“You’ll join us later, though?” Padme asked.

“Absolutely,” Obi-Wan assured her, with a smile. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He nudged at Anakin’s mind briefly-- _ no, of course I don’t feel left out, relax and  _ enjoy  _ this moment with them, we have three days to catch up all together. _

Anakin grinned, and poked him back,  _ thank you, brother, I love you,  _ thank _ you. _ “We’ll see you in a few hours, then,” he said.

“I’ll find you,” he promised, then bowed briefly to Padme and left with Arid to find the Senator.

“Bye, Uncle Obi-Wan,” Leia called after him, then, redirecting with the speed that only a small child who had been promised a chance to play could manage, turned back to her parents. “Gardens now?”

“Yep,” Anakin said.

“We need to stay behind the blue wall,” Padme said. “All right? There are a couple other areas that are safe for us to go, but for now, we’ll stick to that. Don’t wander off too far.”

“We won’t, Mom,” Luke promised, and squeezed his sister’s hand briefly.

“Good,” she said, and smiled.

And then--well, the twins had each other, so Anakin bowed, as formal and courtly as he could manage, and offered Padme his arm. Just like he used to, on those rare occasions when he could be near her in public. As a cover for what they  _ really  _ felt.

Which--kriffing hell, they didn’t  _ have _ to do that anymore, at least not  _ here, _ and that felt strange and wonderful and terrifying and liberating all at once.

But the old patterns felt familiar, and comfortable, and romantic and electric and all those good things, so there they were.

“Milady,” he said, softly.

Padme’s eyes were sparkling, but she kept her face smooth and gave him a regal nod before accepting, threading her hand through his. Just like she used to do. Just as if they were ten years younger and on Coruscant again. “Master Jedi.”

The twins looked at one another, then, in unison, rolled their eyes. Which made Padme start giggling, which  _ did _ sort of kill the moment, but in the best possible way.

Because they were all  _ here. _ It was finally actually sinking in. They’d  _ made _ it this far. He and Padme and the twins--his family; most of the people he loved most in the world. And Obi-Wan was close, and even if Rex and Ahsoka weren’t there in person…

This moment was still pretty damn perfect. This moment felt  _ whole. _

Their patterns were changing now, for the better.

And in the kids’ defense, he  _ did _ remember what being ten was like.

He laughed a little, and squeezed Padme’s hand lightly. “I guess we are pretty gross, aren’t we.”

“Very,” she agreed, solemnly, then leaned up and kissed his cheek.

Leia rolled her eyes again, then nudged Luke before dropping his hand. “Come on, I’ll race you.” And, without giving him a chance to answer, she was off like a shot.

“Hey, wait!” Luke said, already darting off, hard on her heels.

“H--stay where we can see you!” Anakin called after them, even though there wasn’t really a point anymore. He frowned a little, but Padme leaned into him a little, running a soothing hand down his back.

“Relax,” she said. “Let them have their fun together. They’ll be fine.”

He took a breath, and let it out slowly. “I know,” he said. They were good kids, clever and brave and resourceful. And he trusted Senator Organa’s arrangements, or else he wouldn’t be here. “I just…”

“Don’t want to let them out of your sight right now?”

“Can you blame me?” he asked, a little sheepishly.

“Nope,” she said, and kissed him again--properly, this time.

And, with no ten-year-olds to offend, he kissed her back, lingering. “I’ve  _ missed  _ you, my love,” he murmured, when they at last pulled away.

“Me, too,” she said. “The letters were...your letters were so  _ wonderful, _ and they made it almost bearable, but…”

“It’s not the same.”

“It’s not the same.” She leaned into his chest for just a moment. “I’m glad you’re here.”

He kissed the top of her head. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

One more kiss, and then she pulled away a little and smile. “We should probably go after them, though,” she said. “They’re  _ our _ children, after all. Even if they stay in bounds…”

There was  _ no end _ to the trouble Luke and Leia could get into together.

“You are absolutely right,” he said. “Let’s go find them before they start getting Ideas.”

Padme laughed and kissed his cheek again, then took his hand and tugged him toward the door.

And then, hand in hand, Anakin and Padme stepped out into the sunlight to watch their children play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay, guys <3 Next chapter shouldn't take as long, lol.
> 
> Thanks so much for your patience, and see you next time! ~shadowsong


	61. Part 6, Chapter 6

Saw was waiting for them when they got to the clock tower, a few minutes ahead of schedule. He was leaning against a covered speeder painted to look like a delivery van, one of several Ahsoka and Rex had seen during their earlier recon through the city.

_Makes sense,_ she thought. _It’ll blend in with the rest of the traffic._

Covered speeder, though. With no windows. Which, sure, meant no Imperial security could see inside and identify them, but at the same time...

The two of them paused. They didn’t look at one another--they didn’t have to. Just weighing their history with Saw against the risks of getting into a vehicle like that with a...a _friend,_ yes, but it _had_ been years. And so many things were different now.

Saw clearly caught their thoughts. “It’s not that I don’t trust you,” he said.

_Except it is. And, honestly, if we had an actual base besides the farm and we were bringing him there…_

“We get it,” Ahsoka assured him, touching Rex’s hand lightly. These days, it was better to be careful, even with friends. On the other hand, _someone_ eventually had to take a leap of faith, or they’d never get anything done. And she trusted herself and her partner.

Besides. They’d come this far, and Saw and his people had something in motion. Which meant she and Rex could help. But only if they saw this through.

So, the two of them got into the vehicle, and didn’t object when the doors closed behind them, leaving them in semi-darkness.

Still, because it _was_ better to be careful (even with friends), she left Rex in charge of keeping tabs on any more immediate threats, and spent the half-hour drive to Saw’s base camp in a semi-meditative state, memorizing the route by speed and direction. Just in case she and Rex needed to make a quick exit.

Other than that, the drive itself was uneventful, and the speeder finally let them out at the entrance to a network of caves, or possibly old mining tunnels.

_Both, actually, I think,_ she decided. _Probably started as caves, but they’ve been excavated. That entrance isn’t entirely natural._

Apart from a few sentries--one overt and three concealed--most of Saw’s people were gathered in a large cavern about half a klick into the warren. There were about fifteen of them, a variety of ages and species ranging from a Shistavanen whose muzzle was entirely white to a Human girl who looked a couple years older than Leia.

“Friends of mine,” Saw said, in response to a curious look from the Shistavanen.

She nodded, accepting that as enough, which was reassuring. It meant Saw’s people trusted him, and were willing to listen and follow his lead, which was always a good thing to see when making contact with a new group.

“I’m Ashla,” Ahsoka supplied--sure, she’d already used her real name once, but that was in a direct message to Saw. The people in the caves had probably been out of the loop, and the fewer people who knew exactly who she was, the better. Obi-Wan and Anakin worked on the same principle when they met with resistance groups.

“Rex,” he said. He, on the other hand, had a name that was a lot less distinctive, and only used a cover ID when planning for a long-term mission. From what Saw had said, this would only take a couple of days.

“Kylie,” she said. “Good to have you on board.”

“Thanks,” Ahsoka said, flashing a brief smile.

“We get the last of the gear?” Saw interrupted.

“Yeah, we’re all set,” Kylie confirmed. “And we’ve been keeping track of things through the ‘net, we have the window we need.”

“Good.”

_Window? Huh._ Something must have happened. Not something Saw and his people had done, though; Ahsoka didn’t pick up any threat or deception in what Kylie was saying, just a sort of not-quite-relief that this opportunity had fallen into their laps.

“So, what’s the target?” Rex asked.

“A shipment,” Saw told them. “Didn’t originate here, but it was routed through as of about three days ago. Top-secret materials for some kind of Imperial weapons project. We don’t know exactly what it is, let alone where it’s headed, or what he’s building, but we know it’s here now. We don’t have the resources to go after it in transit now, but…”

“Current security threat means certain high-value shipments are being held,” Kylie finished for him. “Getting to it’s still gonna be a pain in the ass, but we _can_ pull it off.”

Ahsoka nodded. That tracked with some of what Obi-Wan had been digging into, over the past ten years. About a massive infrastructure project somewhere deep in the Outer Rim. This was also exactly the kind of thing that building a real network might help with—pooling Obi-Wan’s intel with Saw’s might put them that much closer to figuring out whatever this project was and stopping it.

And _that_ was something she could maybe use to bring Saw and his people in closer, especially if their mission was a success. At the very least, though, whether or not it put them any closer to seeing the whole picture, or got Saw to agree to join their network, even a brief derailment of whatever it was Palpatine had up his sleeve was _always_ a good plan.

On the other hand…

“This threat, though,” Ahsoka said. “If it’s bad enough they’re holding shipments...”

“Security _is_ tighter everywhere,” Saw said. “But still better than trying for a moving target right now.”

“Fair enough,” she said. And he was probably right, especially if he and his people had been here long enough to really get to know the lay of the land.

“What is the threat, anyway?” Rex asked. It might not make a difference for the actual mission at hand, but then again, it might. It certainly couldn’t hurt to find out and make that call for themselves.

_There is no ignorance, there is knowledge._

“There was a bombing in the capital,” Kylie said. “Looks like Princess Lavinia was the target.”

Ahsoka drew in a quick, sharp breath. That was--not good. Very not good.

But it could have been worse. It could have been a _lot_ worse.

_At least the others are still safe on Alderaan, or we have no reason to think they aren’t,_ she told herself. _And the propaganda machine would’ve already been in full swing if the princess had actually been seriously hurt._

Still. Not the kind of news she liked hearing. Because even if this wasn’t the _worst-_ case scenario, targeting seven-year-old kids was _never_ good.

“Kriff,” Rex muttered; concerned, yes, but more resigned than actually worried. He’d probably come to the same conclusions she had. “Anyone claimed credit yet?”

That was the real question. Whoever was behind this might not be an ally--might even be someone in the Imperial establishment making a power play--but they were _definitely_ someone Ahsoka and her family should probably be aware of.

But, “Not that I’ve heard,” Kylie said. “But there’s some gaps in the ‘net coverage, obviously.”

“It wasn’t us, if you were wondering,” Saw said. “Even if I had the resources to put a team on Coruscant, that wouldn’t be what I’d do. It’s not like I could keep her, and she’s too young for anything else.”

“I didn’t think it was,” Ahsoka assured him. After all, everything she picked up from him and Kylie said they were taking advantage of a situation someone else had made. Not that they were forcing the Empire’s hand themselves. Not yet.

Besides, Saw was a lot of things--she couldn’t help but remember the point he’d made earlier, about being willing to pay a steep price for what they were trying to do. And he was, by reputation, not as careful as she and her family were. And he _did_ give off a much stronger sense of danger than she remembered. Still, she didn’t think he would _deliberately_ attack innocents. He wasn’t that far gone.

If she thought he was, she wouldn’t be here.

“Any idea who it might be?” Rex asked. “Most of our contacts either don’t have the reach or wouldn’t try it. For the same reasons as you, among others.”

Saw and Kylie exchanged a look. “Maybe,” he said, cautiously. And, just for a second, his eyes flickered over to the Human teenager, who was busy cleaning a half-disassembled rifle in the corner.

Ahsoka decided not to ask. Not just yet.

“We can talk about that later,” she decided. And she would--with Saw, if he would let her, and definitely with Obi-Wan and Anakin when they got back from Alderaan. At that point, they might know more than she and Rex did, anyway, especially since Luke and Princess Lavinia were friends. “It’s not like there’s a whole lot we can do about it from here, anyway,” she added.

“And we have a shipment to raid, and only a day or two to do it in,” Saw said, the set of his shoulders relaxing just a little. “Or, more accurately, a warehouse.”

“I think we’ve done that once or twice before,” Rex said, dryly. “Raided an Imp warehouse. Where do you need us?”

Saw flashed him a hard, dangerous smile, then grabbed Kylie’s datapad and pulled up a set of blueprints. “All right, so here’s what the security grid looks like...”

 

* * *

 

Sidious was not particularly concerned about this incident.

The bombing--the probable attempt to kidnap his child--had been disorganized, unlikely to succeed. Possibly connected to some kind of wider insurgency, but he thought that unlikely. _Possibly_ an internal movement, which would be a little more interesting to hunt down and unravel, but even then, it wasn’t a serious or credible threat to his power.

On the other hand, that made it in some ways _more_ irritating than a better-planned assault would have been. While the actual damage was slight, easily repaired, it was enough that cleaning up this mess would occupy time and resources better spent elsewhere for several days. And, inept though this attempt was, Sidious _would_ have to deal with those responsible personally. The child was, of course, hardly irreplaceable, but she was still _his_ child.

Conversely, the damage was slight _enough_ that he could only make limited use of it. A handful dead, but no one of consequence, a speeder destroyed, a few buildings mildly scorched. That was all. Barely any political capital to be gained from it, either in terms of broad-based propaganda or specific bait for anyone susceptible to such things.

And nothing in Grand Moff Tarkin’s report was likely to improve the situation.

“The Princess broke her collarbone, and sustained a few other incidental injuries, but nothing serious,” Tarkin finished. “I left her and her guards in her quarters, back within the Palace perimeter.”

Which, of course, Sidious already knew, courtesy of the guards themselves--the one who had been with her at the time of the incident had been killed in the initial explosion, but two of the others had responded promptly to fill the gap. Even if Tarkin had arrived on the scene itself quicker, and handled the immediate aftermath while waiting for them to arrive.

In any case, Sidious was far more interested in how Tarkin pieced together his update than the actual facts at hand. In what details he highlighted, and what he might leave out. Always useful, to test those assets he had placed in particularly sensitive positions. “Good,” he said. “And the conspirators?”

“Unfortunately, Majesty, we captured none of them alive,” Tarkin said. “We are still searching for any who were not on scene. Of the four who were present, one was already dead when we arrived, two were killed as we secured the scene. The last was initially captured alive, but was able to break open and swallow a suicide capsule before we could stop him.”

So. That made an internal action less likely. A pity. On the other hand, the fact that the assailant had been so quick to end his life, rather than attempting to use his brief moment of celebrity to pontificate, might be relevant. Possibly this action was a mere feint--striking at the child while she was exposed to make some noise and draw attention away from some larger game.

Of course, the insurgent’s suicide did not rule out the chance that the attempt, however inept, _was_ sincere. Idealists were often sloppy, desperate creatures. The dead man likely knew he wouldn’t be given a chance to speak anyway, and found the possible costs of an interrogation too great. That argued for the existence of other conspirators elsewhere. Possibly in waiting elsewhere on the planet, but possibly…

“Infernalis,” he said.

“Master.” His apprentice stepped up behind Tarkin, whose jaw tightened a little, but didn’t otherwise react.

“While Governor Tarkin investigates here on Imperial Center, you will pursue any links to off-planet groups,” he said.

Infernalis bowed. “It will be done,” he said.

“Anyone you find, bring them to me,” Sidious said.

“Yes, Master,” he replied, then, at a wave of Sidious’ hand, bowed again and swept out of the room, cloak swirling behind him.

Sidious turned his attention back to Tarkin. “Go,” he said. “Settle this. Report back to me on your progress by nightfall.”

“Majesty, it will be done,” Tarkin said, before following Infernalis out of the room.

Leaving Sidious alone with his thoughts, and his lingering _annoyance_ at the situation.

True, he had lost nothing but time--and not even much of that--but it was irritating, nonetheless. Like an insect bite. Incidental, but distracting.

But soon solved, he was certain. And perhaps, buried beneath the incompetence of this paltry conspiracy, Infernalis or Tarkin might find something actually worth his time.

He doubted it. But one could never be too sure.


End file.
